


Lattice

by calystegiia



Category: Quantum Devil Saga: Avatar Tuner - 五代 ゆう | Godai Yuu, Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Mentions and Descriptions of Gore/Violence, The Last of Us (au)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-01-23 04:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calystegiia/pseuds/calystegiia
Summary: "It's not infected! It's not infected, I swear to you, it's old! It's really old!" Sera cries, she outstretches her arm, pulling back her jacket.Jenna doesn't falter, her gun is aimed at Sera's forehead and her hand's tremble. "Impossible! I know for a fact everyone turns within two days! Don't fuck with me!""It's old! It's two weeks old! Why would Cuvier set you up?"
Relationships: Heat O'Brien/Serph Sheffield, Jenna Angel/David, Serph/Gale
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! No you're not mistaken, I have posted this before! However, I was reaaaallly unhappy with the way it turned out. So I thought it to be best if I took it down and spent some time editing it and rewording it! Again! This is just a Last of Us AU! I'll be doing my best to try and include both games as blended as can be! Chapters will be relatively long and of course if you want to keep up with me you can check my twitter @realvarnas for updates and all else! Enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote and adjusted chapter 1 and will be doing for other chapters due to me just being like that. Treating that almost like a nanowrimo challenge!  
edited and reuploaded ch. 1 <10/14/2020>

It doesn’t take long for the disease to become a nationwide issue--and not much more to make it a global pandemic. At first, they call it a parasite, something to be the cause of the infection. When that fails, a virus, but they’re unsure. There was never enough time back then to designate it a full cause--it struck quickly. Ripping through a small town, unnoticed in the news, brushed into the news cycle, deemed nothing more than the flu. Unwatched, it gains traction, spreading more rapidly into bigger cities. Lines of people waiting for a cure, a flu shot, or any similar knock-off pharmacy brand that could be of any help. They wait, but it does not come.

The world sees it for what it truly is for the first time on nationwide news, caught on tape by a reporter. The camera work is shaky, and through the grain of the film, you can see the silhouettes of fighting humans outside of a house. The sky is dark with night and the screaming blends into the wails of sirens. Guttural and desperate roaring mixed into the frantic cries for help that last a moment--but only a moment. The reporter moves closer, and the cameraman zooms in. 

You can see it this time. The skin on their body is pushed back forcibly, making room for the congealed crystal that protrudes from their upper arm. The crystal is see-through, the inner workings of the body are on display, the rushing of blood through veins that spiderweb through the body, and the twitching and stretching of muscles. until it's muddied with the blood and fat of the victim. The cacophony of cries is nearly impossible to stand for more than a few minutes, the reporter screams for the film to cut, she screams it as loudly as she can over the macabre screams.

When the infected man finishes with his first victim, he turns on the others, grabbing them with his hands hooked like claws. Finally, the news broadcasters had to cut the live footage themselves, the minimized screen paused on the last frame--captured on national TV, finally clear to all that what they were dealing with was no longer human. 

The cases become more frequent and the panic spreads like a wildfire that the government loses control over. Their promises to find a cure, multiple failed platforms that ran with the attempt to solve a problem that no one knew what to do with. Crime rates rise with the death toll of those who become infected. Murder/suicides in families soar, breaking and entering, and looting rises as people scramble for resources becoming more and more desolate. Mass shootings with undertones of cleansing run rampant and become normalized, they no longer flinch at the mention. They are complacent. The world felt like it was reaching its end. 

For miles and miles, empty grocery stores become common, their shelves empty with ignored signs asking their patrons to take only one of each essential item. Lines for gas stations stretch for miles, looking for somewhere that would have something to fill their tanks. The gluttons behind the businesses are drunk off of the soaring prices as the desperate breakdown to pay whatever it takes to drive their car--begging for a sense of normalcy as the normal bus services are forced to close.

They are complacent because the world felt as if it was reaching its end. The military steps in when the government can no longer, calling for martial law after states of emergencies fail to keep the general public safe. Tanks and watchtowers created from hollowed out buildings guard the city and state borders. While the military does a better job at protecting, in some instances, their accompaniment leads to a massacre. Hushed whispers fill alley’s about towns that stopped abruptly. Houses that are still frozen in time sit with food on tables left out with no one to consume them, doors creak as the wind rocks them back and forth, wide open. The windows are still cracked to let in the fresh air, from its appearance it looks as if the mass of humanity just vanished, leaving everything behind, untouched. 

Full of infected, they whisper. An excuse. They couldn’t risk it. The military says that there is too high of a risk, that any one person who may pass through has the risk of infecting everyone else; that one bad apple will spoil the bunch with no room for error.

Towns designed to last and grow with humanity are eaten by the destruction of uncontrolled nature. They become hollow shells of their former selves, streets once bustling with life now bustle with the hordes of the crystallized victims. Buildings and other construction begin to deflate without consistent upkeep. What might have been brick or wood coverings become home to moss and overgrowth. Gardens grow beyond their original boundaries, dropping rotten fruit to the ground where they become the next hungry animal to win, losing the domestication they once had while owned by man. The overgrowth trips the infected, who wander through the streets, blurring the trails of blood that would stop without reason. The only other active citizens were the flies, drunk off of the gore and meat able to be feasted on freely. 

The disaster was reaching its height toward the end of David’s high school career. He continued to go to school daily and graduated with a class that dwindled by the day as panicked parents pulled their students from the school. It was odd, to see kids who he had grown up with just suddenly stop, their seats empty. But it’s pointless to question it, there was no reason to dig deeper to find the answer to a question you knew had a devastating answer. Instead, he just continues forward, eyes trained on the goal of graduating and moving away to attend college, thinking ignorantly that there would be a shot at a chance for a mundane life.

David’s hometown is nestled outside of a bigger city, off of a popular exit to travelers alike. Most of the areas around them were either small chains or a few mom and pop shops. The majority of the adults found their work in the city. Their work was still considered rather essential with the only downside being that the cities were the hotspot of epidemics. That many people crammed into one city was concerning, but through desperation, they went. Clinging outlandishly that the infection couldn’t happen to them, not them, they were safe and doing what was right for them--it may have stifled the anxiety for moments, but even that couldn’t fight away the fear when you felt as if anyone around you would begin to act strange.  
Days after he had finally moved into his first college dorm, he returned to his hometown, his father panicked, called him, and asks him to come home--just for the weekend. Just to keep his baby brother company while their mom is at home recovering from what he claims is allergies. Luckily he had taken the few supplies home with him to continue his school work. Despite the ongoing tragedy, there was promise and hope in the people who were going to school to try and learn how to counteract the spread of the disease. People cling to the students who are going into biomedical, any sort of medical engineering as vaccine tests continue to fail. The public is hungry for a cure for the Cuvier Syndrome.

Named to actively discredit a freedom fighter: Margot Cuvier. Margot Cuvier was the leader of a small society, named the Karma Society. Designed to return the government to their power, to find a way to manipulate the disease to benefit the remainder of humanity--to become something similar to the “demons” so that they could survive and overpower. It was a farce, it was widely discredited by the military who were desperate to remain in control. It then morphed into a new aged political race, the two sides arguing and leaving propaganda to switch people from side to side. The military’s standing in communities was much higher than that of the government at this point, weaponry far outweighed in protection compared to anything former politicians had attempted; and the guaranteed rations were something that could not be ignored. With that much power, the Karma Society slipped into the shadows to strategize, and with the silence came the lack of certainty on what a future designed by the Society would hold. 

David passes posters and graffiti haphazardly plastered and painted on building walls as he drives to his old high school. On the brick walls are phrases scrawled in childish handwriting that screams for revolution, screaming to “eat” the rich, and make them feel the way others feel. He shudders, unsure of its relevance to the situation, but unnerved nonetheless. His father had called and asked him to pick up his younger brother, Gale, from high school. Over the phone, his father informed him that his mother was not feeling well and was at home resting after her boss had called and asked him to pick her up when she became unresponsive and feverish. He was also warned not to tell Gale, that there was no reason for a fuss, it was allergy season, after all, she had probably just taken too much of a pill. There was an emphasis on the fact it would be curable.

Gale frets when he gets into the car, despite his fathers’ wishes, David informs him of the situation. It would have been pointless not to, David was not supposed to be home and that enough was an indication that something was wrong. They sit in silence as they drive home, and though not outwardly expressed, David can see from his peripherals that Gale’s stressed, clicking through apps on his phone aimlessly, anything to silence the anxiety that ate at them both. He looks like he has something he wants to say, but remains silent.

The world feels eerily silent when they get out of the car. David leans against the side of the car for a second. Trying to catch his breath that was shortened with anxiety, Gale hangs around, his backpack hanging off his shoulder, and a worry line prominent on his forehead. There’s a mutual understanding, that something is wrong, unspoken, they both feel it. Maybe they’re hiding, attempting to avoid the truth by keeping their eyes shut; seeing no evil.

“She’s going to be fine, Gale. Dad said she just probably took too much of the allergy pill. Makes her drowsy.” His voice wavers, breaking the attempt of bravado he wanted to display to comfort his little brother. Gale scoffs and fidgets with his phone again, refusing to make eye contact.

“Okay, I believe you.”

The sensation lingers like it was yesterday, no matter how much time passed the memory is so clear that the scents of the old books littering his house mixed with incense still leaves him with a mild headache. Phantoms heavy with guilt weigh on his shoulders, progressing the chunks of blonde hair that fade into silver, and further creasing a worry line across his forehead deeper than the Mariana Trench. Those moments where he chose to protect himself and his little brother over his mother and father, a decision made in the face of chaos leaves him feeling more and more as if it were his fault that she had contracted the Cuvier Syndrome. 

Even when he closes his eyes, hunting for the peace that sleep may be, he sees his mother reaching out, her hand outstretched with the tips of her fingers crystallizing as he stands watching, helpless. There’s a chance she may still be in there, that deep down inside she’s human, currently possessed by a temporary mutation. She might be there. Through the crystallization of her eyes, he tries to search for life, for the soft look he had grown up seeing. The love and compassion of the mother so beloved. But her voice is broken and wrong. It cracks from its usual soft tone into inhuman screeches, only moments later he realizes it's his name she’s crying out. Her vocal cords are stretched to their limit, tearing as she screams it over and over, high pitched and broken.

“David...”

“David.”

“David!”

He jolts awake. His mother's voice is gone, no longer calling for him. His heart pounds in his chest leaving his breaths uneven and shaky. His hands go to his face, and then goes to his forehead, wiping the sweat that accumulated in his restless sleep. With a deep sigh, he falls back onto the mattress, arms spread out, aimlessly staring at the ceiling of the apartment, collecting himself. His breathing steadies as he focuses on the bits of the sky are visible through the cracks of a decaying roof. Through the cracks he sees the sky a light gray, heavy cloud threatening to burst at any moment. It’s good, David thinks, they need the rain.

Waking up, his shirt is sticking to him and he’s damp with sweat, the old fabric twisted uncomfortably on his soaked skin. He allows himself a moment to untwist his clothing before he reaches for his glasses that rest on the nightside table. Surveying the room, David realizes he’s alone, the space beside him on the bed is empty. Her spot on the bed, long abandoned by the way he was able to gorge on the blankets without a fight. Despite the temperature outside, he slept with all of the blankets, though they ended up in a twisted knot on the floor, it was a sense of security. Like a child hiding under the covers from an imaginary demon, keeping themselves tucked under blankets was comforting. David reaches down and scoops up the heap, shaking it out before beginning to make the bed.

It’s amusing to think that these blankets deserved to be treated so gently, as if it didn’t match the rest of the interior, torn and old; fraying at the corners with a stale scent of urine that wouldn’t go away despite the numerous times he had attempted to wash it. A faded yellow quilt, thick with some of the inner plush oddly dispersed in some areas, adorned with crudely designed flowers in various shades of white and pink. The colors are worn, and there are numerous questionable stains running from green to a faded orange. Yet, it’s the one part of his home that makes it seem like there was personality. He had worked hard for this blanket, he ran different merchandise drops for people with the sole intention of acquiring it. An actual blanket that was thick, heavier, and would keep out the cold compared to the itchy wool blankets provided by the military that left your skin crawling.

The apartment itself is small with the lingering smell of rot and mildew, and that smell is only heightened in the summertime months, when the humidity amplified everything. The buzz of mosquitoes and other insects outside makes up for the lack of vibrant city life, instead filling the air with their song, a depressing melody. While small, and left to fall apart, the furniture matched with its age, a telltale through the obvious swelling of the cotton fillings. With every usage, David fears the old couch they have tucked into the living room may burst at any time. The counters are cracked as well, sanded down with dirt and dust and nestled between appliances that seldom worked even on days when they were able to use electricity. 

“David, open the door!” 

Jolted from his thoughts, David remains on the bed, trying to decide if the voice was a remnant from a horrid dream, or if it actually belonged to a person. 

“David!” The voice comes again, assuring him that it is real, and the voice is familiar, and human, unlike the voice in his dream. 

The door looks as if it may cartoonishly bust open the way the knocking pounds away at the old wood. “David, dammit! Open the door!”

“I’m coming!” He yells, finally making his way toward the door. David realizes he doesn’t remember falling asleep, and by the feeling of his body, he wasn’t asleep long enough. The old wood floor groans under his weight, bouncing under the weight of his uneven steps. A perpetual state of dampness and rot that threatens to give out from any sudden movements.

“Took you long enough.” The door opens and the room cools off. Her voice is accusatory, heavy with irritation. She shoves past him, not waiting for a greeting, a flash of dark hair that falls from an excuse of a ponytail and an unattractive scowl. Throwing herself down onto the old couch that sighs under her weight before settling into the shape of her body.

David shuts the door and turns to her, but his glasses have fogged with the rush of morning air. He removes them from his face, and cleans them off on the corner of his shirt to get a clearer look at her--it was almost too early for such a terrible attitude. However the irritation is not just shown in her voice, but on her face as well. A mixed canvas on her skin of greens and yellows of fresh bruising, and a cut across her eyebrow caked in freshly dried blood, smeared across her forehead and into clumps of her hair. 

“You went without me.” He says with a sigh, “You were supposed to wait, Jenna.”

“You were asleep.”

“You were supposed to wait.”

Under her breath she mutters what could be an insult, or an excuse, but she turns away, looking toward the window instead of at him. David sighs, knowing that any further pushing would only result in another argument that would be loud enough to get another neighbor pounding at their door, threatening to call whatever soldier had enough free time to butt in. So he lets her have this one, instead grabbing for a rag in one of the kitchen drawers and dipping it into the tin bucket that collects water from a leak in the roof. 

“Let me guess, you got your ass handed to you and the client made off with our merchandise, huh?”

There’s no response.

“Jenna I’m serious.” He pleads, going to sit beside her on the couch. 

She snatches the rag from him before he can even touch her face with it, holding it to the dark lumps that formed under her skin. She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes blending in with the black eye beginning to form.

“It wasn’t the client, understood?” Jenna snaps, dabbing at her face with a wince. “I didn’t require your assistance because it’s a regular. Your assumption I couldn’t take care of myself is stupid.” Jenna fishes their reward from out of her coat pocket, flashing the shiny material that’s glossed over each ration card.

“See?” She adds.

“So, what happened then?”

Jenna releases the rag into his grasp, and he begins to gently blot away the dried blood from her skin. Her eyes narrow and her lips pull back into a scowl, she’s baring her teeth at an imaginary enemy.

“Vanguards.”

David says nothing, but he quirks his brow.

Jenna catches his look and slaps his hand away, “You don’t believe me.”

“Now, I didn’t say that. It’s just been quiet for a bit you know. Are you positive?” David reaches back over and dabs her cheek.

She bats his hand away once again, “Why would I make up that? The green on their clothing is so bright it makes me wanna vomit.” Jenna pinches the fabric on the couch, rolling it between her fingers. David pities it. 

David runs a hand through his hair, Harley was the leader of the Vanguards, a small but notorious, underground organization that worked in delivering smuggled goods to and from different quarantine towns. Unlike a few of the “self-employed” smugglers such as Jenna and himself. They had worked with him previously, doing a few drops that no one else was interested in taking, only to be screwed over. Harley made off with their rewards, a set of guns that was desperately needed as theirs fell past their usability. They hadn’t been able to contact him since, hidden behind a line of recruited soldiers that were promised blank checks that hadn’t fallen through yet. Though Harley was paranoid and shaky, he still managed to have the charismatic qualities to keep his ports lined with die hard workers. 

“So, these Vanguards jumped you, and you made it out alive. Can we expect to see them again Angel?”

“Don’t worry about them, they weren’t even a challenge, barely even had their colors.” She says with a sigh, reaching down to re-tie the laces of her boots. “He’s getting desperate enough to just hire anyone these days I’ve heard, and they didn’t care enough to protect him.” 

She sits back up, and looks at him with a glint in her eye and a smile that replaces her scowl. She looks almost giddy, an emotion rarely expressed through her usual stoic, or better described, bitter demeanor. “In fact, they didn’t even hesitate to tell me where he is.”

David sits in shock. “They ratted him out?”

“Didn’t even have to make them squeal.” His partner rises to her feet, brushing off her pants and offering him her hand. She radiates with excitement, and anger, the exhaustion was entirely replaced by adrenaline run rampant, “Let’s pay him a visit, shall we?” 

David sighs, running his hand through his hair. “We need to be careful, I don’t want another failed mission.” He replies, but Jenna seems undisturbed. Drumming her hand on the knob to their front door, watching his every movement.

“I have to get changed.” He announces, ignoring the harrumph. “You should consider it as well, considering your shirt is stained in blood.”

“No it’s fine. I had blood on it when I came in, I’ll have blood on it when I get back.” Jenna reasons.

“Okay,” He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Then eat something.”

He leaves her to hunt through their kitchen, returning to their bedroom to smooth out the bed one more time before grabbing the last clean shirt from their shared bureau. When he returns, Jenna is picking through a half finished ration, looking as if her mind was anywhere else as she just stirred the food around. 

“You’re not wearing that, are you?” She asks, crinkling her nose with disgust.

“What are you talking about?” David looks down at his shirt, then back at his partner. “My other shirt was two days old, I’m not wearing that.”

“I hate that shirt.” Jenna replies. “You can’t wear that. You haven’t ever been to New York, you can’t claim to “heart” it.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Do I sound as if I am kidding?” Jenna throws the ration back into the cabinet, letting it slam behind her loudly.

“We’re behind on laundry, this is all I have currently, I’ll only wear it for this run.” He pleads, “Come on, Angel, just let it slide this one time?”

With a scowl, she throws her hands up in defeat. “You can’t use that each time you want to get away with something.”

David locks the door behind them, shoving the key to the apartment into his back pocket before jiggling the lock to ensure it was firmly closed behind him. Jenna stands off to the side, her arms crossed over her chest and her foot impatiently tapping against the dirt--still unreasonably annoyed with him.

“You know, your face will get stuck like that if you’re not careful.” He teases, brushing a lock of hair from her face. Her face flushes lightly, a flash of amusement crossing her face before she turns and stalks off, leaving little clouds of dust kicked up from each dragging step of her boots.

The air outside is heavy with humidity as the sky threatens to break open, darkening clouds rolling in from the west. The breeze does it’s best to try and carry away the scent of trash and overpopulation, a stale scent that returns as quickly as it fades with each rain. They walk in silence, Jenna in the lead while David follows behind. Tucked in the corner of the backside of their apartments are three large overfilled dumpsters. Like the original “water cooler” at work people loiter there, safe from the military’s watchful eye and exchange underground news. Jenna shoves her hands in her pockets and looks around. There’s a small group today, they whisper to themselves and stare, their eyes have an unreadable emotion, blank, dead. They turn away, no longer acknowledging the couple back to their gossip. As they pass, David catches the end of their conversation.

“They just lined them up outside, no questions, no hesitations. Just shot them point-blank."

“Cooper’s wife, she was a Society member too, he said he came home from outside duty and she was just gone.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The whole house had been turned upside down, no signs of her anywhere. He won’t talk to anyone now either, just sits in his house all day."

“David.” Jenna calls, standing further away than he remembered. He must have stopped walking while he was eavesdropping, and Jenna’s voice sends a few of the vultures that lurked scattering off into the sky--silencing the conversation between the neighbors.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, jogging to return to her side. He can’t help himself but to lean in to kiss her, then brushing her hair from her face once again. 

She makes a crumpled expression, a look of confusion before rolling her eyes. “That’s not enough to get me to enjoy that horrible shirt, David.” 

The frequency of people going missing due to being affiliated with the Karma Society is on the rise. After a period of silence, there was a sudden increase in activity floods of attacks were starting up again. They were beginning to rebuild and strike back. New propaganda is spray painted crudely on buildings and dumpsters, the amount of destruction followed by their attacks leaves the military on edge and ready to attack anyone who even slightly made a move out of line, innocent party or not--they weren’t taking any chances.

The pathways of the city are created solely by flattened overgrowth, they walk along the paths set in stone under the boots of soldiers and townspeople. Broken up asphalt leads to tall and vines dangle from branches that create roofs over buildings that lack them. Glass litters the floor outside of buildings where spray paint is residing.

“WE CAN DEVOUR THEM.”

It’s written crudely, handwriting done poorly with dripping paint that pools on the ground beside the abandoned spray cans. Beside it is the Karma Society logo, some sort of circle with various spikes coming from it, looking like a spiked collar, David thinks. Jenna stops to stare at it as well, but unlike David’s hesitant interest, she shakes her head over and over, hissing something under her breath about the damned Society.

“It’s stupid.” Jenna says finally, as they walk through town, her voice low. She’s too distracted to say anything against him as he reaches for her hand, intertwining their fingers and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I hate them.”

“Hate is a strong word, Jen.” He teases. 

“Then I hate you.” She retorts, snatching her hand away from him as if she had been stung. Though he was teasing, he knew that she was not playing around with feelings so strong that it rivaled the military's disdain for the Society. 

David laughs, an odd sound, out of place even, he can’t help but be amused with her. Anyone else would have been stricken into silence, mortified by such an outbreak, but David knew she was more of a bark than a bite. Or at least she was with him. The quarantine towns are often silent, conversations consist of the daily demand for rations and the cussing from guards losing their tempers at the same questions. Outside of that, the only other noise consists of the occasional sounds of machinery as tanks roll through town, destroying any of the greenery that tried to grow out from their uniform flattened path. Conversations were often lower in volume, whispers if spoken out in public, louder if in private. The only other noise is the sounds of the speakers that stand erect in the corner of every street replacing old telephone booths, announcing curfew times or any other news that was phrased like warnings, even if the content was light. 

There were various ways to exit from the quarantine zones, though they were broken up into smaller sections each guarded with heavy barbed wire and chain linked fences with guard towers full of lurking soldiers with their shotguns aimed at you. Those ways were easiest if you were trying to get between different sections in less amount of time with little to no risk. Other ways involved a far more risky approach that included leaving the protected quarantine zones through tunneled out paths that stepped into the outside world, free of the military but full of infected. 

“Back way or straight through? Don’t think that I have any papers on me.” David pats the pockets of his jacket.

Papers were given to each civilian, a replacement for traditional government records and used to travel between those same fenced away areas. They also allowed for each person to claim their allotted rations from the ration stations. Not only were they useful for everyday life, but they were a hot commodity amongst forgers and traders. Jenna and David each carried their normal identification, but occasionally used a few fake ones when they were attempting to move through several areas all in the same day. There wasn’t a close watch on the people that slipped in or out of the towns, the only moment it became extreme was when they were caught. Most of the soldiers were steady clientele. There were just some things left in the world that the military couldn’t replicate easily. The only time there was a genuine problem was when there was a bite, or a capture by the soldiers unconvinced. It meant paperwork, checking for bites and often ended in execution. It was easier to let a missing person just be a missing person. It meant more rations were available to be spread around, especially when the amount was dwindling daily.

“I don’t want the risk of getting past the posts right now, there has been more difficulty getting through this morning. Something about the Karma Society intervening at each checkpoint.”

“Fresh air it is.” 

“Make every bullet count then.” 

Wishful thinking, David hums to himself. The outside world was infested, despite the use of outside work, the number of infected continued to outgrow the number of survivors left. Roaming throughout any area they could fit in, small hordes of infected were dangerous, but even a single one could be a challenge. They were erratic, teeth-gnashing in any direction to get a taste of flesh. The crystals that littered their skin in no particular manner were sharp, a cut from them could prove to be fatal. He had seen it before.

Jenna pauses on the steps of an old building a short distance from their home. It stands across from one of the few military posts, the shade of the looming building falls onto soldiers holding their guns close to their chests like a lifeline. The emotions are their faces are unreadable, the skin is stretched taut in a strict frown. Beside them sits another group of misfit soldiers, they stood in front of a group of civilians all adorned in bright orange jackets, clad with gun holsters and the awkward shape of a bulletproof chest wear sticking out from under their normal clothing. 

Identifiable as outside workers, they were a selected group of people pulled a few times a year to go out into the abandoned part of the cities to do a service to the town. Much like a draft, a random drawing where you spent a month under the eye of the military searching for supplies or clearing out infected for attempts at spreading their small agricultural department or city growth as populations attempted to rebuild. David had served it a few times, each time was more difficult than the last and increasingly longer. It was boring work, though he kept himself occupied by searching for small trinkets he could slip into his pockets without notice as a gift for Jenna. If you had never stepped outside of the quarantine zones it could be exciting, though the results for those new to the game were questionable, not everyone was lucky enough to survive. The work would vary in different zones, some were already cleared out, less concerned for infected to attack. Those areas had already been stripped bare, when that happened they would move out further.

You were provided a gun, each gun had enough ammunition of one or two rounds, and that was it. That and the other workers around you were your only source of protection. Each shot had to be calculated and careful, the guns they were given were finicky and in the hands of someone who’s never killed, they’re rendered pointless. Too many times before had he seen quick executions of newly infected workers who missed a fatal amount of shots and drew the attention of infected and military alike. 

“Down on your knees!” A voice yellows, pulling David from his thoughts. The scene unfolds, four people being shoved from a building just across from them, hands on their heads, faces streaked with mud and grime. Behind them comes soldiers, using the butts of their guns to knock them to ground. David meets the eyes of one of the men, but his expression is dead--a blank glassy stare reminding him of a dead fish. They hold eye contact until David looks away. 

“We’re clean!” One of the men cries out, his hands are raised above his head, and he keeps his face turned to the ground below him. His plea is ignored as the guard pulls a device from his holster. He begins to walk down the line, pressing the device against the nape of the neck. It had been developed later into the years of the infection, designed to check the body temperature and other mechanics David never had time to study--but it could confirm whether or not there was a strain of infection in the human body. The first two cleared with a long confirming beep, however, reaching the third person, a woman, the device beeps several times. Jenna visibly tensed at the sound, she steps behind David.

He closed his eyes at the sound of her shrieking, there would be the attempt of escape, he could hear it with the sound of dirt being kicked up and the irritated grunts of soldiers struggling to recapture her. A single shot rings out, then there’s silence. When he opens his eyes, she was lying face-first on the ground, put down like a dog.

“Let’s go, David.” Jenna whispers, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt to pull him away from the scene. David doesn’t resist, letting her pull him along, eyes still watching the corpse be kicked around by soldiers muttering to themselves. The remaining members are regathered and returned to the inside of the building.

They slip into the old townhouse quietly with Jenna in the lead. David lingers by the frame for a few moments before shutting the door behind him. An old building, a home in some words, and like an office to others. The field of running shipments had a few bases, most of these bases had a way out into the outside world or different tunneling systems that could take you to where you needed without interference. Though not everyone worked, there were a few squatters who stayed inside, sleeping on the floor or on the old couches moved to surround a broken TV. David doesn’t remember many of their names, just faces. They all look familiar, distinguishable features are often hidden behind dirt and splatters of blood that dry into the wrinkles on their faces. 

“Ah, Angel. You guys going on a run?” A man sitting in an old lawn chair against the wall rises, he brushes the dirt off his jeans and approaches them. David can’t remember his name, but they smile when they meet eyes.

Jenna pauses and reties her hair, “We are,” She says coolly, “Harley has invited us to visit.” 

“You’re looking for him too then?”

“Not looking, we found him.” Jenna leans against the wall and raises an eyebrow. It was a known fact that Harley and the Vanguards had screwed over multiple shipment runners, but David couldn’t think of any by name who were as dedicated as them in looking for him, “Who else is looking for him?”

“Margot Cuvier is after him. She came by here earlier, asked if I had seen him.”

David and Jenna exchange looks. “The leader of the Karma Society looking for Harley?” Her voice is low, but the name still seems to bounce through the hallway loudly. Her name wasn’t the most popular to be spoken out loud, most people avoided the name entirely if they could help it. 

The man shrugs, then slides his hands into his coat pockets, “I dunno, I told her what I told y’all. I don’t know where he’s at, just seen a couple of his men moving in and out of one of the old warehouse districts on the east side of town. But you might run into her out there. Be careful.”

She pauses, as if calculating something to add further, but decides against it. Pushing herself off the wall and reaches out, exchanging a short handshake and goodbye before ushering David into the next room. 

The exit to the outside is hidden with everyday objects in the house, this one was hidden behind a large bookshelf, lined with empty alcohol bottles or other little trinkets. Moving it to the side was the way to get into the tunnels, the people who also worked there would close it behind you, assuring that there would be no one suspicious behind you. The man they conversed with gives them a nod as he follows them into the room, throwing himself down on a couch and scooping up a bottle full of dark liquid.

“Help me with this?” David asks, beginning to push it out of the way. Jenna stands on the other side, doing a mild amount of pulling. The wood creaks, sliding uneasily across the floor until David makes a gap he can slip through. From there, there’s a short drop down to the lower level where people store their outside traveling packs and weapons.

“Is your stuff still down there?” 

“Yeah.”

“Mine?” 

“Yeah.”

With the confirmation, Jenna jumps down to join his side. Her backpack is smaller and carries more guns and back up ammunition. David’s was much larger, fitted with more pockets and loops stitched into the side poorly to make room to hold melee weapons or other supplies. Between the two, Jenna had a knack for guns, she worked well from a distance and had a knack for rarely missing a target. David was better with brute force, and closer ranged fighting.

In the corner of the basement is a large work desk, the wood is dirty and dark, covered in different levels of grime and oil. The large wood drawers on it’s side are full of different gears and other small pieces of metal used to update guns. Any extra pieces that were scavenged and not needed immediately were thrown into a miscellaneous drawer for others to use. Above the desk is a cork board, various scraps of paper with notes are left for certain people, reminders or drop dates needing people to work it. Their business ran smoothly, as long as there were no mistakes.

“I have enough for this run. Make your shots count.” Jenna says, sliding the clip back into the butt of her gun. David nods.

“Ready for this?” Jenna says, pausing in front of a large wooden slab that guarded the door to the outside. The spaces between the wooden slats were braided with ivy and bramble to help camouflage it with the rest of nature.

“As I’ll ever be. After you Angel.”


	2. canicule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no excuses i just hate editing

Damp from the previous night’s rain, the wooden board, the makeshift door is slick with moss that grows on it. It smells of rot, and David grimaces as he wipes his hands on the corner of his shirt. He slides it back over the covering and sighs. His partner stands ahead of him, a little off to the side, breathing in slowly and deeply. Her eyes are shut and her shoulders are relaxed. She looks peaceful, David doesn’t interrupt. 

“The city fuckin stinks.” She says after a moment, opening her eyes as David joins her side.

“I’ll bring you flowers next trip, how about that? Spruce the place up a little.” He offers, it’s met with a bitter laugh. 

“As if that’ll do much. Thanks anyway.” 

Jenna seems distracted, kicking a rock with her as they walk, treating it like a soccer ball before giving it one sharp kick that sends it spiraling into a cluster of cans. The metal rattles loudly, startlingly off a few of the birds that were present on an old telephone wire above them. With a flurry of cries, they settle further away and Jenna harrumphs. 

“Careful.” David cautioned, resting his hand near his gun. “Any sudden noise could-“

“I know what attracts an infected.”

Jenna shrugs off the button up she wears over a t-shirt, It’s one of David’s. She ties it around her waist then reties her hair. The heat is annoying today, despite that, they still dress in layers as a precaution. At the bottom of David’s backpack is a coat, a pallet of bloodstains and dirt, he keeps another tied around his waist in case, Jenna does similar. 

Flies whine around them, feasting on piles of rot or animal droppings on the remains of concrete. Wildflowers and other wild plants push their way through the cracks on the sidewalk, desperate to reach up to the sun that burns above. The city, once bustling, was now a wasteland of old stores that were crumbling, all faded into one monochromatic landscape. If you peaked through broken dusty windows, there was still the semblance of personality from families who had decorated the broken walls with faded bright colors. A few of them were spattered with blood, either on the wall or in big fade pools on the floor. 

Most buildings were destroyed. Old wires from electricity and pipes from plumbing stuck out from different angles. The ends of wires were often frayed from being chewed by animals, and the rotting furniture inside was easy to find from the heavy aroma. All one brown, muddy color, the building they needed to cross through town was one of them. It served as a tunnel, a part of the path that was incorporated to get to the other side of the quarantine zone quicker. Usually, a ladder rested nearby, hidden in a patch of tall grass to avoid suspicion. The old house was sometimes filled with residual goods or ammunition, either discarded for lack of use or left for others to use as needed, the worst finds were when they stumbled across the occasional corpse of an unlucky person. 

“Can you get the ladder?” Jenna called out, she pointed to an area of knee-high grass alongside a building with chipping paint, blotchy turning from the deep copper on some areas to a bright blue. The rain ate away at different areas making it look like it had been eaten by the waves of the ocean. Ivy covered the building, tall, continuing to crawl desperately toward the sun, pushing remaining foundations aside, breaking up concrete and any trace of mankind to further itself. Piles of bricks now lay uneven, even where they were the foundations of homes, they remained in place but now jutted out awkwardly as if a child laid them. 

“Yeah, sure.” He said. The ladder squeaked when he picked it up. The metal was cold to the touch, slick from the dewdrops that hadn’t been disturbed. David leaned it against the old building, with a jiggle to ensure it was steady, David nodded to Jenna. “You go first, I’d hate to miss the view.” 

Jenna said something under her breath, but David caught the hint of pink on her face as she ascended. 

The wood floor creaked as the couple got into it, Jenna kicked the ladder down into its resting spots to ensure nothing would follow them. The building was warm and musty, particles of dust hung heavy in the area and it smelt like a library of old books and pulpy paper. 

They walked in silence through the house, turning over different areas that had probably been excavated before in search of anything that may be useful. Overturned couches and beds stripped of everything but their mattress left them unsatisfied. Any cabinets that still desperately held to their hinges cried out as they opened to reveal their emptiness. Jenna slammed them with a scowl and stalked off. 

“What’s with the ‘tude Jude?” David calls as he leafs through an old magazine, waiting for his partner to return from the room she’s in. 

“I don’t have a ‘tude.” 

He can visualize her making finger quotes around the last word. He tosses down the magazine, the pages fluttering before hitting the table with a soft slap. 

“I just want to get this over with.” Jenna calls, “I’m downstairs, hurry up.”

He sighs and joins her, the stairs groaning with each step. Jenna waits at the bottom, holding her gas mask. Her fingers drum on the old mask patched with duct tape nervously as her eyes dart to the side, then back to him.

“Solar noise?” His eyebrow quirks and she nods. He takes a moment to rifle through his backpack and retrieved a gas mask in a similar state. 

“Be careful.”  
David nods, and Jenna watches as he puts on his mask before she pulls on hers.

Solar noise was the name for the heavily polluted air that filled areas where infected were gathered. The longer a group of infected stayed, The more likely they would begin to enter a state of decay. When the infection first begins, crystals form and stay in a general position, however over time it becomes a gradual encasing of the body, a beautiful prison. You could tell where areas were high in infected because the air would have a sharp feeling like something was scratching your throat. It was another way to be infected, the pathogens in the air were a slower infection, nonetheless, you would be mindless in 2 days. 

Jenna’s flashlight danced over different areas in the patch of solar noise. Typically these areas were dark, full of the echoing screams of lingering infected as they roamed. The room was trashed, papers and different debris littered the floor serving as alerts for anything nearby. 

“Keep your gun in hand.” David warns; his voice is muffled, but Jenna draws her gun despite it.

They move stealthily, and up ahead they hear it, warning signs of an infected who screeches at the sound of creaking floorboards created from its very own steps. Jenna freezes in place and lifts her hand in warning, signaling David to stop. Feeling breathless, they stay in position, not daring to move while they listen for its location. 

Despite their silence, there is something that triggers the infected to scream. There’s a crashing noise, metal hitting the ground loudly. Two screams come from ahead, one gruff and human, the other is high pitched, a screech that could not be replicated by any human.

Desperation can be heard, followed by the sounds of scrimmage, David flinches, and it screams again, louder, with the proceeding sounds of careless footsteps. A gunshot that rings out, but there isn’t another to follow it. There’s silence and that makes the two tense up. Another scream, then the wet sounds of flesh that splattered and hit the ground ahead of them in heavy, dripping sounds. Jenna’s gun clicks lightly as she loads it, her hand is visibly trembling as they move forward. David’s breath hitches, his heart skips a beat. 

Moving forward slowly, Jenna’s flashlight, still on, catches a glimpse of what they’re dealing with. Clear crystal limbs are splashed with blood that runs off, leaving a broken trail down into a puddle that gleams when light glimpses over it. It’s hunkered over, teeth-gnashing in desperation. Heavy breaths between each tear of flesh with a slurping and spitting, it moans between bites, burying its face into the chest. A thick string of saliva pouring from a mouth gone crystal when it comes up to chew, the jaw moving jaggedly; robotically. David fights the urge to wretch. Whoever it was, whoever was just killed, his chest aches. 

A clean shot, Jenna aims her gun up slightly and fired a bullet, it hits the side of the head and it squeaks, and then falls silent. The body jerks for a second and then goes limp. 

“Ew.” Jenna says breathlessly. She tucks her gun back into her holster. 

“Yeah,” David says. “Poor fucker didn’t even stand a chance. Look.” He squats down and points at the face of the victim. “No gas mask, the fucker was gonna turn anyway.” 

“Ah, still, not the best way to go.” Jenna steps over it, emotionless. She skirts around the corpse of the infected, her little steps indicating she’s worried it might bounce back. Honestly, David feels the same. 

“Let’s get out of here, I don’t want to attract anything that might have heard that. Anyway, the exit back into the city is coming up.”

The rest of the walk goes in silence, Jenna walks a bit ahead, determined. David trails behind, hands in his pockets. Similar to the doorway before, the wood is damp, this time David wipes his hands off on his jeans. 

Behind the plank is a small building. They move a bookshelf out of the way that helps disguise the door, then push it back.Dark and cramped, shelves line the musty room and the only source of light is from a large glass window. The figure of a young boy stands guard, arms crossed, leaning against the glass. With three short knocks, he turns and cracks the door open enough that you can see his face. 

Fishing in her pockets, Jenna presents a bundle of ration cards. “Make sure there are no guards, okay?”

The boy nods curtly then slides the door back into place. He hops out a little to the right and cranes his neck, then hops a little to the left and does the same movement. Through the glass, he gives a thumbs-up and disappears into the crowd. 

David doesn’t know how to describe this area—a slum to be offensive, in desperate need of a touch up to be polite. Market stands are held together with uneven and discolored logs that show off possessions that had been smuggled in. Blankets, jackets, cans of food with questionable labels with pictures are lined up in front of merchants who threaten you if you get too close with no intent of purchase.

Covered in dirt and crud, and sometimes even...blood, they all stare, leering eyes narrowed in distaste and distrust. It was less monitored compared to other areas of the quarantine zones and more bustling in the result. From a chain link fence nestled between two stands, large dogs stand erect, barking loudly as saliva swings from their chops. They weren’t the dogs David knew. A particular one comes to mind, small and white. It’s tail wags wildly in his memory, a high bark that sounds more like a “yip!” than anything else. 

“Not for sale.” The little white dog fades from his mind as a man with a gruff voice interrupts him. He stands guard in front of his merchandise, eyeing David up. “Try again next time. We get dogs pretty often.” 

“Ah, no thanks.”

Feeling out of place, David follows behind Jenna closely. With her head held high and her shoulders squared, people step out of her way. Being in the business longer than himself, Jenna was well respected. Known as someone who could get things done, regardless of the danger or what was required to complete it. Ruthless with a sharp tongue and eye, she was a valuable trader and a dangerous partner. Which made their partnership amusing. A tall, almost gentle giant, he was more liked than he was respected. No one was fearful of him.

“David!” Her voice is sharp, annoyed. David stops abruptly, almost crashing right into her. “Get off my heels.” He didn’t realize he had been so close. 

“Sorry, sorry!” He steps back, hands up.  
Jenna says nothing, she stands there for a second staring at him with her brow quirked and a frown that left a permanent frown line on her forehead.

“Okay.” She says after a moment of silence, her eyes looking to the ground or over through the bus made bridge that connected one area of the slum to another. “You okay?”

“Fine, fine. Just, admiring you.” 

Her face scrunches up. “Shut up, let’s just focus.” 

They walk through the bus in silence, David staring straight ahead to avoid the eyes of the man who sits on an overturned milk crate with his arms crossed. 

“He givin’ you, trouble Angel?” The man asked, voice deep and eyes unwavering as they met David’s. The scar that runs his face and an expression that doesn’t change when given a thin smile makes him swallow a lump of fear newly arrived in his throat. He stands up slowly, without a doubt he saw them outside the bus. 

“He’s mine, don’t concern yourself.” Jenna responds, not bothering to pause as she hops down the last few steps that lead to the other side.

“Yeah, I’m hers.” David mimics in a low tone, hurrying to keep beside his partner. Jenna meets his eyes this time, it’s reassuring, warm. But she looks away before he can say anything, and he isn’t sure there could have been anything to say to her that would have resulted in the look she gave him. Just seeing it was enough.

“You’re being weird, let’s keep moving.” Jenna pulls ahead again, hands in her pockets. 

Along the chain link fence that follows the outside border of the town are wanted posters slapped aimlessly on any surface that would hold. Pictures of Karma Society members, some with large red X’s crossed over their faces and insults and slurs scribbled beneath it, some untouched, pristine with their reward price in bold letters. The promise of ration cards or some sort of immunity that wouldn’t be delivered upon if you were capable enough to bring ahead to them. And as usual, the most important wanted person poster was of Madame Cuvier.

The artist's rendition was poor, designed to be insulting he was sure of it. A sharp face, high cheekbones that jutted out unattractively, her face was skinny with hunger and age. Skin sagged down near her jowls and resting on her nose was a small pair of frames. Sunglasses, he hadn’t seen them in a while, a common sign of the Karma Society was to wear them, a sort of “cult” appearance that made no sense to him. 

“She looks… poorly.” David comments, he gestures to it. Jenna narrows her eyes and rests her hand on her hip. Her foot taps impatiently. “Just a comment.” He says after receiving no response. 

The rest of their walk is silent, Jenna glances over her shoulder multiple times as they begin to enter the district where Harley was supposedly hiding. The area was large, nets were scattered between large piles of shipping cargo that were still sealed. 

“They got more shit huh, can’t give ours back?” She’s talking to no one in particular, just hissing at a large box surely full of weapons. David scowled as well, though he hadn’t been particularly vocal about his dismay, he felt it in his bones. 

The world they lived in now was full of bare survival, people were watching one another carefully, and more often than not screwing one another over. A prime example was here, they worked hard, and received nothing but a death threat and nothing. 

David stuffs his hands in his pockets. So far, no trouble. They were able to enter the port with little rise of suspicion. It’s not as bustling as he thought, the crates that lingered were stacked with notes. Documentation of their contents, when Jenna was busy kicking things around, he would sneak a look. Mostly confirmation of clothing items notes on what to expect next. Some were letters between members, a particular one that stated the absolute disappointment of losing a shipment to soldiers who needed bribing. Typical. 

They walk, further along, avoiding trouble until it stares them in the face. They meet a group of Vanguards, they stand covered head to toe in clothing stained with neon green. An indicator of their group.

“Out.” They say flatly. Guns are strapped to their chests, a pistol stays in one of their hands. 

“Fuck off, we’re not here for you.” Jenna snarls. She steps forward and they draw their guns cautiously. 

“Harley said to keep you out.” 

“Well, we’re not going anywhere without Harley.” David says firmly, his hand hovers near his gun. 

The group of Vanguards scoffs. They look at one another with smug looks on their faces. The tallest member steps forward, his hand lingers over his gun holster all while aiming his gun at them both.

“Listen, if you don’t get your dumb asses out of here, I swear to fuck I will put a bullet right between you and that loud-ass bitch’s eyes--” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence, a spray of blood goes out on the two other men that flanked beside him. The body crumbles to the ground and twitches. David’s hands shake with adrenaline, and he lowers his gun back to the side. 

“Oh, fuck!” One of the Vanguards calls, immediately pulling out their guns and moving behind the large crates that fill the dock. 

Jenna throws herself down behind one of the crates and grabs David, dragging him down with her. 

“Sorry, he called you a bitch.” David apologized as he collected himself. Adjusting his glasses, he reaches down into his pocket to reload his gun. Jenna shrugged and offered a half-smile, her thanks is said through the gentle touch of her hand to his wrist. It faded quickly as a bullet whistled past their heads. 

“Jeez, these fuckers are annoying. Harley is fuckin’ great at getting assholes to do his work huh.” Jenna scowls, she slowly reaches her head up, poking her gun out and hitting one of the enemies right between the eyes. 

“Bullseye,” David whispered, they moved onto the next crate. 

The remaining Vanguard screamed an insult, some sort of remark that made his face hot with anger, but fighting with emotion was dangerous. He breathes out slowly, then peeks over the tip of the crate. His fingers hesitate over the trigger and then not at all.

It takes several minutes to get through, most of their ammunition was spent trying to knock out Vanguards who were lingering around. It didn’t take long for their arrival to spread like wildfires and the increase in members was surely an attempt for Harley to protect himself. Though the dedication they had to get through was more than enough to send Harley running, defeating the mission before it could even begin. 

David stands with a knife in his hand, it drips with the blood of a vanguard whose throat lays gashed, pouring blood onto the concrete. 

“Clear!” He tells Jenna. She pokes up a bit away, wiping the sweat from her forehead. 

They keep moving, little conversations consist of warnings and confirmation of clear spaces. With no hesitation, they kill those who attack, even knocking out those who don’t pose that much as a threat. Their primary instinct is to kill first, to survive. The carnivorous ways may be present in the infected, but they will always reign prominent in the living.

Jenna’s back is pressed against the wall outside of a makeshift office. red hair fled in, whimpering something indiscernible from behind a door. After failed attempts of trying to shoot at them, bullets were stuck in the walls and one had even lodged in the door itself. David kicks it open, then throws himself against the wall as well. 

“We just wanna talk Harley! Put your gun down.” David says, hesitating to lean forward and see if there was any compliance. 

Another shot rang out, whizzing past them and into the wall in front of them. There’s the sound of the clicking of an empty weapon. Frustrated, there’s a muffled conversation as the gun is beat against the table, desperately looking for any sort of backup ammunition. 

“Leave me alone!” Harley cries, throwing the empty pistol toward the door, an attempt to buy himself more time means he knocks over an old leather chair before taking off. 

“Oh for fucksake.” Jenna groans, pushing herself off from the wall, barreling into the room where Harley had thrown his chair down and knocked over the large oak desk other miscellaneous objects to create an attempt of an obstacle course to slow them down. 

“Harley!” Jenna screams with all her might, her voice shrill as she chases him, stumbling over items in her way without regard to how David keeps up with her. 

His adrenaline keeps him moving, though he can’t move as quick as either Jenna or Harley, especially as they tend to be able to leap and bound over different knocked pieces of furniture that takes David a few seconds longer to cross. 

“This way!” She takes a sharp corner, David hears the sound of a chain fence being shaken, and then the shrill cry of Harley, and a thump. 

When he meets up with them, Jenna has him cornered in the alley, she’s holding his arm twisted behind his back, her knee keeping him held steady into the gravel. David reaches down quietly, grabbing an old rusty pipe, he fashions it like a bat and approaches. 

It’s an empty cracking sound as it meets Harley’s other arm that flails about hopelessly. Harley screams. Jenna releases him from the hold, but delivers a sharp kick to his side that rolls him over, belly up. He writhes in pain, gasping and whimpering as he attempts to catch his breath, thrashing wildly before he rolls back onto his stomach to protect it. 

“That’s for sending those guys after me, fuckwad. Where’s our shit!?” Jenna goes to draw her leg back, but David rests his hand on her shoulder. 

“Give him a second,” David says, kneeling beside Harley, firmly resting his hand on Harley’s shoulder blade and the other hand above his elbow. “I can talk to him.” His voice is cold, and in one swift motion, David dislocates his shoulder, he grits his teeth, and in a low voice demands, “Where're our fucking guns?” 

Harley cries louder, he thrashes as David lets him go, rejoining his partners' side. They loom over him, staring down with eyes burning with hatred as they watched the red-haired man thrash and cry out. 

“I don’t have them! I don’t have them! Take my men, take my base—just don’t kill me!” 

Jenna roars and kicks his side again, she does it another time for emphasis and then grabs Harley by the hood pulling him half into the air. Her body trembles with anger and her grip tightens, the grey fabric bunching under her fingers stained with blood. “What do you mean you don’t have them!? Who has our fucking guns!” 

“The Karma Society, I owed the Karma Society!” Harley squirms under her grip. The arm that David dislocated hangs in an awkward directly, dangling widely as Jenna shakes him around like a doll. Without another word, she throws him back to the ground. She paces for a moment, then reaches into her backpack pocket and fishes out her pistol. 

“You owe us, I think you fucked up.” David says coldly. 

“W-We can get them back! Together! Uh, for old times sake? The military has been wiping those fuckers out like the plague! We can kill the rest of them and get our—I mean your!” Harley tries to sit up, his weight is unable to be held on his arms. Dark bruises begin to form on his face, and the blood welling from under his nose drips down in a perfect line to his cracked lips. “Your shit back! What do you say?”

Trembling with rage, a single gunshot goes off. Right between the lying eyes of a Vanguard bastard. Jenna’s gun is tucked back into her side holster. 

“Dammit Jenna, we could have at least asked him where the Society was first!” David sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then pushes up his glasses, turning to his partner. 

Squatting down beside Harley, Jenna rummages through his jacket pockets. “Fucker probably has something on him about it. He would have just slowed us down, been extra noise.”

She leans back on her heels and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, we worked this hard to catch a Vanguard, now we have to go and catch a Society member? I’m getting annoyed with all this looking.” 

“Well, you don’t have to look that much further now do you, dear?” An older woman, crippled over with her pain, clutching her stomach that bleeds red onto the white fabric of her shirt. A pair of dark, narrow sunglasses rest on her face, and the frown lines run deep with a frown that’s even deeper already on her face. 

“I did need him alive, what a headache.” 

“Madame Cuvier--”

“You are too brash, you know that?” Cuvier clicks her tongue, and then winces and presses her hand down further on her stomach. 

“Madame Cuvier,” Jenna says with more force, straightening her posture up. David raises an eyebrow. “You have something of ours. Those damn guns he sold you, that was our shit.”

Another tongue click.

“I bought those from him for a hefty price. Why would I give them to you?”

Jenna bristles, David rests his hand on her shoulder. 

“Madame, we do need them back. Surely, there might be a trade we can offer you?” David asks, stepping into the conversation before Jenna goes trigger happy again. 

Before Madame Cuvier can answer, there’s the sound of heavy machinery, footsteps, and a call of orders of the military carried through in the air now tense. Cuvier begins to step backward.

“I’ll do a trade, but we have to move, now! You’re both still young, hurry up, hurry up.” Turning, Madame begins to hobble away. The couple exchanges a look, Jenna’s increasingly irritated and David’s just a spectrum of exhaustion. 

“Fine.”


	3. Sera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont care about editing bc uhm its fan fiction we live and die with typos what gthe fucki is grammar BITCH

Ducked behind one of the large shipping crates that litters the port, David reloads his gun. Swarming the marine are soldiers who had been alerted, now searching for anyone to arrest. Any members of the Vanguards who were around had been arrested and dragged away, or they fled at the first sign. Stealthily, the trio makes its way through the majority of the port, staying low to the ground and avoiding any unnecessary conflict. Anything that could be solved with just a hunting knife was ideal. 

That your group's handiwork?” David asks in a low tone, pressing his back against the brick wall as a far off explosion was heard. 

“A distraction.” 

Jenna scoffs and rolls her eyes but offers no comment. David’s sure that Cuvier is shooting her a dirty look, but it’s hidden behind her sunglasses. Silence falls on the trio as the silhouette of a soldier moves into sight.

“Not too many of us left, unfortunately.” Cuvier’s tone drops to a low whisper, for a moment she looks sad. David has a pang of pity in his heart, but it fades as she continues talking. “Though, my dear, can you take care of that? I would ask your lovely partner, but…” Jenna winces, “There’s not much class in that one.”

Cuvier offers David a smile, it has no trace of warmth in it, it instead has the demanding suggestion that he take care of the soldier in front of them. The woman holds so much of an ego it makes Jenna look small in comparison. He says nothing but slowly rises, staying crouched low to the ground as he makes his way, his hand resting on the shiv he keeps in his back pocket. 

The soldier stands with his back turned, a large black helmet rests on his head and his clothing is thick and padded with heavy cotton to protect against bites from infected or bullets. It does not protect him from David, who upon getting close enough, lurches forward, putting the soldier into a choke hold and dragging him down. 

Arms flailing around with the desperate attempt to grab David’s hair, or anything to get the upper hand only quickens his death. With one swift motion the man goes limp and the blood that sputters from his slit stains David’s hand. 

“Gross.” He hisses, wiping it off on his jacket that has become nothing more than a paint palette stained with others blood. The majority of the red stains on it have dried into an unsightly brown that stands out from the original green of it. 

Cuvier and Jenna join his side moments later. The older woman pats his shoulder to thank him. He wasn’t sure he had much of a choice anyway, desperate her age, she was not a woman to disagree with. David shrugs it off. They fall into line, Cuvier takes point and hobbles slowly along the outside of the port until they’re all able to slip into a building. She points to a large storage locker that stands beside the door, then points at Jenna and David. 

“It’s not much further, but I’d much more enjoy our little day trip if I knew no one could follow us. Be a dear?” 

Again, it was something David knew they had no choice in doing. Her tone was casual and sweet, but the intention behind those words was that she was not going to lift a finger further in this. Jenna mumbles something under her breath before joining David’s side as they struggle to move the locker. The metal squeaks loudly as it moves unwillingly across the concrete floor of the old warehouse. Jenna cringes. 

With the locker blocking the door, Cuvier rises again, her body shakes with each step. Jenna doesn’t do well interacting with others, David knows this. Anyone who's worked with Jenna for the extent of a few hours knows that she often has a lack of communication and is headstrong, following after her own orders before anyone else's. It’s not that she respects Cuvier, but David is sure that she’s nervous, more fearful of any sort of reprimand from the older figure. Jenna offers her her arm, which Madame accepts. She pats Jenna’s shoulder and says something out of hearing range for David. But judging by Jenna’s body language, it was a comment with an undercurrent of hatred. 

Glass and other construction debris litter the concrete stairs. Jenna walks a slow pace with Madame clinging to her arm while David trails behind, holding his gun and checking frequently over his shoulder for any signs of military activity. The former white walls of the building are stained a dark green and it streaks down into slippery puddles in the cracks of the stairs. 

“Watch your step.” David warns.

“It’s not much further,” Cuvier responds, ignoring David’s warning. Her movements are becoming entirely dependent on Jenna, she clings to her desperately, the fabric of Jenna’s jacket is a lifeline for her. She hobbles over the final step and basically collapses, only being held up by Jenna’s desperate attempt to support her. 

Without having to be asked, David takes over, and in one swift motion is able to prop Cuvier up, using his weight to support her. She pats his arm as well, and he carries her weight the rest of the way to a door that looks poor. The metal is dented in areas, tinged in red and orange rust, it squeaks loudly as he reaches to open it, but Madame slaps his hand away. 

“I got it.” She says. 

David steps back, allowing her to throw her weight against the door. It swings open, slamming into something that sounds like metal cabinetry on the inside. Madame collapses, she crawls slightly into the entrance of the door as David reaches to help her up. 

“Hey!” A voice cries, it’s small, timid, and lacks the aggression that it’s intended to have. David looks up and meets eyes with a girl, small. She’s holding a knife, a blade longer than her forearm that trembles in her grasp. 

Jenna disarms her with the butt of the gun, her knife clatters to the floor. The girl yelps and jumps back, shaking her hand that was scolded by the butt of her pistol. David sighs, and rubs the bridge of his nose. 

“Jen.” 

“What, she had a knife!” 

“She’s only twelve, Jenna, please, don’t be so aggressive. And don’t be mannish dear, it’s very unbecoming.” Cuvier wheezes, she slowly pushes herself up, leaning on the counters in the room. She lets out a loud breath.

“I’m Sera.” Sera says softly, introducing herself. David lifts his hand in a hello, Jenna doesn’t. Sera’s voice shakes with fear and her eyes are wide and worried, darting between Cuvier and the couple.

There’s a moment of silence between them. Jenna is growing increasingly impatient, shifting her weight between her feet and staring hard at Cuvier, waiting. 

“Seraphita, you’ll be going with them,” Cuvier says, her voice was strained. She’s exhausted, hunched over and clinging to her side. 

David and Jenna share a look. The girl, Seraphita… or Sera, looked between Madame and the couple. Her smile twitters and her hands are folded in front of her chest as if she didn’t know where to place them.

Jenna bristles. “We’re smuggling a person? You can’t possibly be serious Madame.” With a scoff, Jenna continues speaking. “That is not the kind of merchandise we run.”

David looks between Madame and Jenna as well. Jenna is standing with her hands on her hips, tense while Cuvier sits on the floor, removing her dark sunglasses to rub the bridge of her nose while the silence settles between them. He looks to Sera and offers her a smile, but it’s thin. She returns it with a wider smile, showing teeth. She looks so young and frail. Her face is still round with baby fat, rosy cheeks contrast heavily with the shallow bags under her dark eyes. 

“I just need you to take her to the Capital, there are Karma Society members waiting there. They’ll take care of her from there. It’s an easy route for you two, no? You’re both capable, and frankly, neither of you are my first choice.”

Jenna looks like she has something further to say on the matter, she opens her mouth, and then closes it and crosses her arms. She harrumphs and looks to the side. 

“Madame, with all due respect,” David says, resting his hands on Jenna’s shoulders. “We didn’t intend to venture outside the city until later, and that particular area has never been in our usual travel route.”

Madame Cuvier frowns and winces as she stands up. “I thought you two were professionals in this business, I see you need more bribing.” Her face is serious. “If you do this drop for us, I’ll give you those guns back, and then some.” 

They exchange looks. 

“How about this, Jenna,” David starts, Jenna lifts her head up to look at him, her eyebrows furrowing, “You go with Cuvier, make sure she gets to her camp safely, look at the merchandise if it’s everything she’s promised. We’ll do it.”

Cuvier straightens up, she looks at Sera who has stayed silent the entire time, not opening her mouth in protest or agreement. She instead stands into the corner, curled into herself to appear smaller. 

“Okay.” Jenna says after a moment of silence, “Not to the apartment. Take her over toward the west side.”

“Wonderful that you’ve agreed to these terms. However, I do not want Sera in that part of town. David?” David straightens up as well, though he was holding the power in the conversation, Cuvier had a way of taking back the reign without trying hard. It was even enough to make Jenna uncomfortable. 

“Yes, Madame?”

“Take Sera back to your side of town would you dear? Just not to your apartment I suppose.”

The group separates after. Cuvier stands off ahead, she and Sera look to be exchanging words while Jenna stands by David’s side for a moment, lingering. Jenna reaches forward and touches his upper arm, she refuses to look him in the eye but it says everything. She’s afraid to be separated. 

“I know, Angel, you be careful too, that means your tongue as well. Keep them in check, okay?” 

She says nothing as David kisses her. Instead she turns to join Cuvier, supporting her trembling weight with her own. He’s hesitant to leave her alone, so he stands there. Hands in his jeans pockets waiting for them both to disappear from his sight before he turns to acknowledge Sera.

“Uhm,” Her voice is soft compared to the noise around them. David strains to hear her. “So, where are we going?”

“Oh, well, we’re going somewhere safe, the other side of town. It’s almost curfew, don’t need us getting busted, we’ll wait for Angel there.” 

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair before adjusting his backpack on his shoulders. 

“Ready to go?” He asks. Sera nods her head, she looks excited, but she's nervous as well. Kicking around a small crushed soda can that's rusted, she turns to David. 

He sighs and starts heading out a different way than they came, the other way blocked off by the metal and other crates that they used to create a blockade. 

“Do you think Madame is okay?” Sera pipes in after what feels like an eternity of silence. He turns back, and looks over his shoulder, raising his brows. He wants to comfort her, but there’s a blank understanding between the two that she had been wounded gravely, and at her age, there was no telling on how well she would do in the recovery process. 

“She’ll be okay, your friend there. She’s strong alright?” David says, his tone isn’t too reassuring, he’s too tired to lie. His joints ache from constant ducking and dodging of different military workers or different members of the assumed to be disbanded Vanguards. “Speaking of which, your friends with the leader of the Karma Society?” 

Sera shrugged. She hops over one of the logs abandoned out in the way they’re walking and then kicks the same can along the pathway, some sort of game, dedicated to keeping it with them for as long as they can. It reminds him of Jenna.

“My parents were a part of the Karma Society, when they left, they left me with Cuvier, they trust her. I dunno.”

“Where are your parents?”

“I don’t know, they left.”

“Oh, alright.”

They walked in silence for a bit longer. David offers her his hand multiple times to pull her up from the dumpster he wheeled to get up onto the broken off emergency stairs that would take them in the right direction. 

“Where are yours?” Sera asks, breaking the silence.

David hesitates, unwilling to provide her the details he’s sure would upset her.“I don’t know either.” He lies.

“Oh, okay.”

“How old are you again?”

“I’m gonna be thirteen soon! But, uhm I’m twelve.” 

David sighs, then props open a door for her, it creaks uncomfortably, and is intensified by the sounds of feedback from one of the speakers at the top of the old phone lines. 

“Attention, curfew is now in place Anyone caught outside without the proper documentation will be arrested.” The woman's voice played every day at the same time, it becomes like clockwork, easily ignored, unless you were breaking it. Only then did it have meaning, only then it would rattle through your body and your bones as a constant reminder that you were breaking the law.

“Come on, Sera, is it? We need to get going.”

Off in the distance, you hear the sound of machinery, the clicking of war tanks moving through the streets as David and Sera ducked into an old building. The enforced curfew also meant enforced military vehicles roaming around, looking for any unlucky stragglers to cross by, someone to ridicule and take their frustration out on. By the way, the town was beginning to deteriorate, the lack of rations, he had seen it before and knew he would see it again. A desire to abandon and move from this quarantine town to the next one. 

“I haven’t been this far out before,” Sera says softly, she glances through the dirty window at the roaming truck, her breath fogs the glass. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Oh, uhm, sorry but I’m not supposed to tell you why you’re taking me.” She races past him, her hands clinging to her backpack as she does. 

“That’s fine with me, the best part of my job is that I don’t have to know intimate details. Hold on.” He said, she was waiting by the door, she jiggled the doorknob, which was locked, and stayed stubbornly in its place. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key, rusted, but it fits in the door lock and clicks as he turns it. 

The room is dark, but he grabs an old lantern that sits on the corner. With a twist, light fills the room, it glows gently, enough to illuminate a couch in the middle of the room in front of an old TV stand. A TV rests on it, cracked and damaged. Pointless. There’s no electricity anyway, he thinks about the joy of being able to watch TV, something mindless. Nothing with a focus worthy plot, just something with noise. Background noise, something to ease anxiety. With a sigh, David sheds his backpack off, it hits the ground with a thump. 

“Uh-”

“Go ahead and get some rest okay? We’ll wait here for Angel, and when she gets here we’ll decide what we’re doing.” 

David throws himself down on the couch, he sighs and takes his glasses off, folding them and resting them on the table beside the couch. Sera lingers awkwardly, twisting her hands around as she wanders the room. The floor creaks with every one of her concerned steps, and before too long there’s the gentle thump of her backpack as she joins the small sitting area. 

Sitting in a chair across from the couch, she tucks her legs into her chest, she clings to them and stares at him from the darkness. He feels her eyes boring into him, it’s unnerving but he tries to ignore it, rolling to face the backing of the couch instead of her. 

“Have you been outside before?” Her soft voice breaks the silence.

“What do you mean?” He asks, not bothering to open his eyes. His arms are folded over his chest. 

“Like, uhm, past the military, the guards…. Near the infected?” 

Her voice sounds nervous. She needs assurance, but he’s tired. Uncrossing his arms, David pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Get some rest Sera, there’s no reason to stress about this. I’ve been outside before, it wouldn’t be my first job okay?” 

“Okay.” She says softly, resting her chin on her knees. David sighs through his nose. The gentle pattering on the thin roof begins, almost a lullaby. It taps slowly, then builds in intensity. 

“David… David?” A voice calls, they reach out and shake his shoulder, hesitantly, nervously. “David!”

“Mm, yeah?” He groans out, rubbing his eyes exhaustively, then reaching for his glasses on the table beside him. “Is Jenna back?”

Sera stands across from him, “Oh! Uh, no. But you were crying out in your sleep. Just thought it would be best to wake you.” 

David squints, then rubs the bridge of his nose, adjusting his jacket. “Oh, huh, thanks then.” He sits up and twists to crack his back. “It’s dark out huh.” He says, looking over at the window. The outside is dark, illuminated buildings only seen by the moon that peaks through the rain that’s decreased to a gentle pitter-patter. 

“I’m sorry you had a nightmare.”

He stares at the door, still groggy. “It happens.” 

“I hate them.” 

The conversation dies, and David sighs and rubs his face. Not a second later, the door swings open, stomping in is his disheveled partner. Her hair is flat against her skull and her boots make a squelching noise with each step. She throws her backpack down, it makes a wet sound and she sighs. Jenna throws herself down on the couch beside David.

“Welcome back.” David says, reaching over to brush a chunk of wet hair from her face. She leans into him and takes a moment to relax the tension visible in her body. After a moment she sits back up.

“Yeah, whatever. You look well-rested.” She says, running her hand through her hair, she looks over at Sera. Sera lifts her hand awkwardly to wave. Jenna scowls.

“Well, how was it? Was it everything and more?” He pats her thigh, “Are we doing this?”

Jenna nods. “Yeah, it’s a lot of stuff. It’ll be worth it. Double what we sold to Harley, and then some. We wouldn’t need to worry about weapons for at least a few months.” 

“Alright, guess we’re going then huh? Sera, suit up. If we get moving now we might reach there within a day or so. It’s a bit away from here, the capitol building at least.” 

Sera nods and scoops up her backpack as Jenna and David grab their own and move toward the bookshelf. Within a few moments, they go ahead and move the large bookshelf aside that leaves to a large hole in the wall. Ducking behind it there’s a generator, the old kind that requires some pulling. But once it starts it mimics an elevator, the folding platform they're on begins to descend.

“So, what are you? Some key Karma Society member? Don’t tell me you’re the face of some new ad campaign.” Jenna said loudly over the humming of the elevator as they descend.

“I can’t tell you.” She says matter of fact, “I’m not allowed to tell.” 

Jenna scoffs and rolled her eyes, “Fine, I don’t care anyway. The payoff is all that matters.” She says coldly. 

“Jenna.” David said with a cautionary tone, he places a hand on her lower back. Sera’s face twists, she looks hurt but chooses not to voice anything on it. A good decision. David thinks to himself. He offers a sympathetic smile, Sera doesn’t return it but turns her attention toward the cracking walls. 

“Alright. Listen, Sera, when we get out of here we’re going to need to move quickly and with our heads down. We don’t know if there are any patrols in the area.”

She nods her head, eyes wide. “Got it.” Sera’s smiling, buzzing with excitement as she takes a few hops forward as if she was going to lead the way. Her energy was infectious, if not a little depressing as well. David doesn’t remember the last time there was any sort of excitement in him that rivaled hers. 

Jenna reaches behind her, patting a gun that’s at her hip. “Alright, let’s go.”

The wood covering that rests over the exit to the outside world creaks as it is shoved open. David pokes his head out. The rain that falls from the sky creates a grey heavy cloud over everything, it falls at a heavier pace than it did earlier.

“Alright, it should be easier for us to get past this area, it’s dark enough and the rain is heavy enough to help create some illusion. You all stay low to the ground, okay?”

They both nod, Jenna looks deep into David’s eyes, they share a conversation without words, a sense of fear and determination to stay alive, a mental wish to be okay. 

Pushing aside the wood covering, David slips out first, then offers a hand to Sera and pulled her up, helping her to her feet after she gets up on the grass. Her knees shake as she brushes the dirt off, but gives David a thumbs up. Next comes Jenna, who refuses any extra help when she gets up there. She brushes herself off and hisses that she’s fine. 

“Alright, let’s get moving.” 

They cross over fallen logs, different areas that have crumbled under the pressure of age. The rain makes the area slicker, Jenna slips in different areas that now have become muddy from the rain, she barks curses out and David bushes her. Despite that, they try and help one another as much as possible without much noise. 

“Whoa. Did the infected do this?” Sera asks in a hushed tone, pointing to some of the buildings as they walk. They’re similar to the ones that were used as a tunnel. Gashed open or completely obliterated to piles of rubble. 

Jenna snorts. “What? No. Fuck, do they teach you guys anything? This was done by the military. Some sort of cleansing thing, they bombed the area to hell to kill off whatever was lingering.” 

Sera doesn’t respond, she looks troubled. There was probably conflicting information swirling around in her head. The military made up numerous lies that were taught in school as fact. 

“Were there still people around when they—” 

“No,” David injects before Jenna can say anything else. “Everyone was evacuated.” 

Sera doesn’t look like she believes him, but says nothing more. They continue in silence. 

There’s an old storage locker that rests on a large area of crumble and debris, it’s leaning heavily to the right and the inside has pooled water in its corner. David hoists himself up, then offering a hand to Jenna and Sera. 

“I’m gonna go ahead first, okay?” David says after he pulls them both into the crate. “Wait here.” He says, turning his head back look back at them. 

“David watch out!” Sera shrieks, at that moment, the butt of the gun hits David’s temple. He groans, and hits the ground, rolling onto his side as the soldier then grabs him by the collar of his neck. 

“Stand up.” The soldier hisses, not giving him much time to actually stand before the soldier is throwing David back onto his knees. David says nothing, but he’s embarrassed, he should have known it was coming. He puts his hands behind his head. 

“Out, you two as well. On your knees.” They use the butts of their guns to shove them along. The same soldier who grabbed David grabs Jenna as well, knocking her down into the same position. 

“We can make this worth your while, just look away.” Jenna hisses to the soldier. 

“Shut up.” They say nothing further as the soldiers pull out the device they used to check their infection status. The metal presses against the back of David’s neck. He shivers at the cold touch. 

Off to the side, a soldier presses their finger to their communication device. “Requesting pickup for a couple of stragglers.” 

A long confirming beep for David. Clean. 

A long confirming beep for Jenna. Clean. 

David looks over at Sera as the soldier goes to her next. She’s shaking violently, her eyes are wide and her chest is heaving with short quick breaths. She looks wild, she looks like she might faint. She’s mouthing something, David can’t understand it. 

Short, several beeps scream from the machine. 

His eyes widen, Sera says something, he can’t hear. There’s a sudden scream of the soldier as Sera spins around, fastening the same blade she used earlier and plunged it into the thigh of the soldier.

“You little-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, his hand reaches out, fingers curved like claws going for the collar of her shirt. Blood spatters onto the ground and paints the left side of the soldier behind him. Attempting to bring his gun out, David tackles him, throwing him to the ground and turning his own gun against him. Jenna wastes no time in joining him, she takes out the other one with ease. 

“Jeez!” Sera cries out, scooting back. “Uh, I thought uhm, I don’t know!” 

“Oh my god.” Jenna says, “David, look at this.” 

She passes the device to David. In bright red letters, INFECTED. 

“What the hell is Cuvier doing making us smuggle an infected girl?” David snarls, tossing the device down. Jenna straightens up beside him, the gun locked in her right-hand shakes.

“It’s not infected! It’s not infected, I swear! It’s old, it’s really old!” Sera cries frantically outstretching her arm. She rolls up her jacket sleeve and presents a bite wound on her forearm, there’s a glimpse of crystallization; but nothing more.

David rolls his eyes and turns away, hand pressed to his forehead. 

Jenna doesn’t back down, her gun aimed at Sera’s forehead, hesitating over the trigger.  
“Impossible! I know for a fact everyone turns in two days! Don’t fuck with me!”

“It's old! I swear to God, it's old! Why would Madame set you up?" Sera looks like she could cry. “I’m serious! Please…” Her voice trails off, she stares with wide eyes. 

David looks to Jenna, and then reaches and lowers her hand back to her side. 

“Are you kidding me? Do you really believe this? No, I’m serious, David!” Jenna whips away from him, she holds her gun steady now aimed at the ground, eyes blazing. 

“Jenna, calm down, I don’t th—”

“No! She’s sending us out here to die, look at this! This was as close as a fuckin’ call as it could be! I’m not dying for her!”

David presses his face into his hands and sighs. “Jenna, we can’t be having this conversation right now, okay? We have soldiers about to be up our asses in,” he gestures wildly, “Who knows how fucking long? We can’t decide later, but right now we need to go!”

In the distance is the rumbling of a tank. The clinking of machinery that draws nearer and the moment is over. The summonses soldiers were now their main, immediate threat. Sera is not. David grabs Sera’s hand and pulls her to her feet. 

“Sera, are you ready to run?”


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry  
no beta readers we die like men

“Why haven’t they given up?” Jenna grunts, hoisting Sera up into David’s outstretched arms. Leaning over the edge of a rock formation, David sighs heavily as he pulls Sera up beside him. She scrambles from his arms and stands up, waiting beside him as David reaches back down to pull Jenna up. David takes a moment to catch his breath, hands rested on his knees.

“I don’t know, we’re criminals.” He offers, Jenna says nothing, just scoffs and allows her hand to gently touch his hair before he stands. The smile he gives her is not returned.  
No longer submerged in the murky water of trenches, they had moved further up into the open ground. They were past the parts of the terrain that had them curling up to fit in the old sewer pipes that were broken and scattered around. Hands covering each others mouths and holding breaths as flashlights scoured the area. Eventually, soldiers who were dedicated like bloodhounds dispersed, either out of exhaustion or the lack of visibility from the rain that came down in heavy sheets. The fading sounds of the tank left them relieved.

After an hour of travel, they rest in an old apartment building's lobby. Flashlights catch the light of shards of broken glass that twinkle like diamonds as they loot around, opening drawers and turning over furniture in search of supplies.. 

“This is stupid.” Jenna hisses, peeking above the counter in the lobby. Her hair is flat against her skull, she looks like a drowned cat. Where she stands leaves a puddle of water that dripped from her hair and clothing. Her backpack makes a squishing sound as she sheds it.She removes several layers of clothing, including her jacket and the button up of David’s she wears over her shirt. David follows suit, taking off the bulkiness of his backpack, rolling his shoulders, and then removes his thick jacket.  
In an old waste basket, Sera is crouched, hugging herself tightly as she takes in deep, ragged breaths.She coughs once and twice, the sound is thick and wet and she spits something out on the floor. Her clothing is wet and sticks her body as flat as her wet hair and leaves her shivering. 

Impatiently, Jenna taps her foot, arms crossed over her chest, equally as soaked and not an ounce bit empathetic. “Are you finished?” 

David too is crouched down, shaking and wringing his jacket out on the floor after a fruitless hunt. The water splashes loudly against the broken tile, and he shakes it out before shooting a warning glance at his ever tetchy partner.

“ Jen.” He says glaringly, “Give her a break, okay? She hasn’t had to run like this before.”

Jenna mutters something under her breath, he doesn’t bother to listen in, something that would probably only further the divide between her and Sera. He could tell her annoyance had only doubled upon the realization that Sera was infected. Already lacking in encouragement because they had to help Madame Cuvier, Jenna was sure to give him a lashing the moment the child was away from them. Though David doesn’t blame her skepticism even he had his doubts on what their mission was now going to do. With the military hot on their trails, the sounds of tanks and soldiers shouting from the streets below only made him realize how serious it was for them to lay low--that this had become a greater commitment, not only to keep Sera safe, but now what would have to keep Jenna safe, and himself.

Sera was not as used to traveling as roughly, it was safer for him to assume she hadn’t ever traveled beyond a bit of running at the same pace as the ever-growing fragility that was Madame Cuvier. It was noticeable in the way her hands, uncalloused, were not able to grip to the slime and moss that covered the pipes and other broken building material that he and Jenna were so easily able to hoist themselves onto. Between having to pause and drag Sera up, or pause under the crags that stuck out and served as a meager hiding spot while the tanks and soldiers marched on ahead, they were losing time. The precious hours of darkness and the rain that allowed them to hide just a bit easier were fading.

“We do need to move soon, okay? Sera?” He pushes his glasses back upon his face. Giving his jacket one solid more wring, David stands up, tying it to his waist.

“Can I have some water?” Sera croaks, wiping the corner of her mouth. 

“Yeah, but then we have to move? Okay?” Searching through his backpack, he hands her a small canteen and watches tentatively as she takes a few long sips. “We won’t have to run as much, we’ve already passed through the worst of the areas, but we do need to move quickly.” 

Sera nods her head between long gulps. Well, he’ll be sure to teach her the importance of preserving water, or maybe the Society will when they meet. Regardless of the mild tinge of annoyance that flares through his chest, he takes the canteen back when she finishes.

“Let’s go,” David says, tucking the water bottle back into his backpack. “I don’t want to give them any time to catch up to us, not while we still have the decency of the rain.”

Jenna murmurs something under her breath again, choosing to distance herself from the two during the brief moments of rest. Her hand, trembling, rests firmly on the doorknob that leads into the old employee quarters. Pieces of furniture lay halved throughout the back room, their shoes clicked softly on tile that was broken in places and was only filled from the hardened white mold previously fluffy and soft inside the couches that served as a blockade between infected and humans. The gouges are a telltale sign of tragedy, there are stains that Sera’s eyes linger on for far too long, and the half rusted springs that stick out like claws grab at her for staring for far too long.Surprised, Sera cries out, smacking wildly at the sofa, only to be shushed by Jenna moments later. 

“There’s nothing there, keep it together.” Jenna says irritated. Sera nods, and then gingerly touches the side of her windbreaker now sliced open.

Silence stretches between them once more, Jenna stays on point, throwing her head over her shoulder occasionally to cast a long glance at David. Her face is taut and her eyes read in nothing but irritation. He can tell he will never hear the end of a run that almost got them busted in ways that they had never been foolish enough to slip up on before.  
“Before we go out there,” Jenna curls and uncurls her hand over the old rusted knob impatiently. “David, give Sera your jacket.”

Sera’s eyebrows knit together, and though she perks up at the mention of her name being used in a fashion other than a curse, her face reads in confusion. “Oh, uhm, Angel I’m not cold.” 

Jenna looks like she could crush the knob in her hand like a bug. She rolls her eyes, surely biting her tongue. “No,” She begins cooly, “I mean your jacket is too much of a giveaway. Look at it.”

As per usual, Jenna is correct The vinyl fabric is bright turquoise, and through crawling in the muck and sludge around, it was barely contained. It feels like something David should have caught earlier, and in any other situation Jenna would be at his throat for making such a rookie mistake in a mission, but there were moments of adrenaline that didn’t allow for rational thinking. 

“We don’t need anyone else hot on our trail.” With a snap of her fingers, David complies. “Well, it’ll do.” Her blank slate expression cracks slightly, the corners of her lips tilt. His dark green jacket swallows Sera, the shoulder pads make her look rectangular, and her hands are busy working away rolling the sleeves up to a reasonable crop. She looks like she was playing dress-up.David folds Sera’s jacket up and sticks it down at the bottom of his backpack. When he stands back up and refastens it, he meets Sera’s eyes. 

“You alright?”

“Your shirt, uh, what does it say?” 

Jenna groans.

“Oh, I “heart” New York.” Sera smiles like she doesn’t quite understand, but she nods her head anyway. “It was the only one I had left that wasn’t stained.”

“I hate that shirt,” Jenna adds. Like a child, she stomps her foot and rattles the knob in her hand to catch their attention. “Enough of the fashion show please, I’d like to get moving. Now?”

Through tilted buildings along their journey, the air of the group had lightened after the teasing of David’s shirt. Sera pestered them with a few questions on New York, something about saying the big apple and then pondering if there were actually apples grown there--all things that made Jenna look like she could snap, but she keeps her mouth shut, focused on the road ahead and getting them further along. 

In the distance is the gleaming golden dome roof of the capital. The rain had dispersed as the night faded into the morning, and though tired and damp from the rain, they continued their journey with breaks only when Sera’s steps became staggered. David had offered to carry her a few times, but she adamantly refused and her face would scrunch up with determination. 

“There, see it?” Jenna says, “Probably another mile or so away.” Sera scrambles to climb on the rubble beside her and squints, bringing her hands up like binoculars to hone in on the building. 

“Why is the roof gold?” 

Jenna bristles, “Hell if I know. It’s a capital building.”  
“What makes it so special then?”  
David takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “You know, it’s like the central hub of a state or a county. Somewhere where the government convened and discussed official business.” 

“Oh, okay. So do all states have them?” 

“Yes, but not all of them have roofs like this.” 

Sera nodded her head, and David was sure if she had had a notebook she would be taking notes. Had she been kept so in the dark on the ways of the world before? He sighed, he can’t imagine if Cuvier had tried to escort her, even in good health, the pathways that were blocked or the rumble they crawled through and around was wearing him down. He hadn’t had to support more than Jenna’s weight, and though Sera was like a handful of feathers, his right arm was feeling stiff as he reached down to pull her up again.

“Give me a moment Jen,” David said, rolling his shoulder, rubbing the muscle. She made a face, watching him with eyes that trailed his every movement if she was concerned she wouldn’t voice it. “Alright, gimme your hand.” 

He pulls her up with a bit of a struggle. Jenna tried to help him out, looking for something to support her weight on to catch her footing. Unable to find anything, her writhing just make his job harder. 

“Do you need a break?” Her hand lingers above his shoulder, then gently brushes her fingertips against his back. 

“Nah, we need to keep moving. We’re in the home stretch and I want to get there in case-“ 

“In case what? I don’t think they’re going anywhere, not if Sera is as important to their cause as she so claims.” Her concern comes off aggressive, but her intention means well. 

“I’m fine.” 

There’s a flash of light that draws them both to their feet, unnatural. It flickers once or twice, a glimmering color that leaves a flash of rainbow light against the wall. In a panic, their hands hovering above the guns in their holsters tremble as if they’re afraid to make another sudden move. 

“What’s happening?” Sera asks, instantly rushing to stand behind David who then outstretched his arm protectively. 

“Shut up for a second, and fuckin’ whisper!” Jenna hisses, motioning for her to get down. Sera looks concerned but does what Jenna demands. 

There were different ways that the mutation had affected people. The length of their infection was easily read by the number of crystals that covered their bodies. Traditional, newer infected humans were less coated, and the growing crystals would spread from their infection point. There were others however, others who had been infected for much longer.

“Asuras.” David’s shaking hand points outward to the refracted light that was bouncing off the brick walls that surrounded the alley they had exited into. 

Long, lanky looking creatures that sounded like knives being scraped against metal when they opened their mouth were the deadliest of them all. Though all infected were deadly, these were a kind that had had their ability to kill heightened by complete and total loss of normal human strength. Replaced with a desire to kill anything that stumbled into its path and made enough noise and is caught in the act. 

“What is that?” Her steps are timid, hopping from a patch of dirt to patch of dirt as they backed away slowly. 

“Asura,” David said, keeping his hand lingering on his hip holster, though he knew that the gun was more of a comfort compared to an actual defensive mechanism against one. “They’re very old infected, you can see by the amount of crystal that covers them.”

Rising to her tiptoes, Sera stops blank in the middle of the path to look. “Oh, wow. It’s pretty.”

Jenna scoffs. “Incorrect, the only pretty would be their “pretty” gruesome behavior. That demon can shred you to pieces in a moment's notice if it hears you. They specialize in hearing, that is their advantage, and also why you need to whisper.”

Sera nods. She stays on her tiptoes for a moment longer, mouth half-open as she watched it lurch further in the distance. 

It screams out a few times, and David winces at the noise. Like moths to a flame, any noise would attract infected that would have been easily handled if they were able to be shot and killed without the fear of an Asura taking its side and making it a combat-based fight. 

Jenna must have been thinking the same thing, at some point, she had reached down into her boot and retrieved the shiv from the holder against her ankle. White knuckles showed the anxiety in her grip. He wanted to comfort her, but his own hands were shaking. 

They walk as silently as they can for a few moments, similar to being pursued by the soldiers, the trio moved slowly, focused on short movements and sticking to the shadows. It screams occasionally, and the crunching steps of their feet as they near makes David’s skin crawl and his stomach turn cold. David prays that it will leave them be, that the amount of regular infected is too small to make an impact and follow after the Asura that screams so angrily at any noise created by its own sloppiness.

Stray infected that linger outside of buildings are taken down with stealth, this was more of David’s focused tactics. Though he was much larger in frame compared to either of the partners with him, his patience was a virtue that allowed him to stay calm for much longer, waiting for the opportunity to dig his dagger deep into the throats of infected. Their arms flail, attempting to grab at an invisible foe as David allows them to go limp in his arms, laying them down softly. He wipes his forehead clean of sweat with his forearm, and then waits for Jenna and Sera to return to his side, hoping that it was just silent enough to not attract anymore. 

He reaches for Jenna’s free hand, hoping that holding something will provide a sort of comfort to him that would cease the shaking of his hands. Not only that, but he also wanted her presence, just in case there was a situation, just in case it would be the last time he would be able to hold her hand in his. Her hand squeezes his once, and then twice. She too was just as nervous, there was no time limit to the fear that turned the red hot blood to ice in the veins of even the strongest men. David and Jenna had seen their share of blood that spattered across their faces the second that crystallized teeth tore into the flesh of companions who made the mistake of stepping too heavily in an area they could have sworn to be safe.

“The capital is getting closer,” Jenna whispers, pointing to the dome top of the building. David nods his head.

Sera looks nervous, she follows closely behind David, almost stepping on the back of his heels a few times and looking at him with her bottom lip protruding out as an apology. He can’t be too cross with her, it’s like kicking a puppy--though Jenna had no qualms in nearly spitting in rage when Sera made a move she didn’t agree with. 

She stops abruptly, and like a cartoon skit, David nearly collides into her, and Sera, fretting and looking over her shoulder, walks directly into his back and jams her hand over her mouth to avoid crying out in shock.

“What, Jen, what?” David asks, his voice rising an octave out of fear. His gun clicks.

“What if they’re all dead.” She says flatly, whirling around to face them. David releases a held breath slowly. Her eyes are narrowed, swirling with an emotion unreadable as her brow furrows together. “The Asura aren’t active without reason, not like this. What if the Society members are dead?”

“Don’t talk like that, it’s just because of the military movement, there’s been a lot of noise a bit back, I wouldn’t be shocked if they had just heard it from that.” He reassures her.  
With a snort, she turns back. “Are you comforting me, or yourself?” David recoils. “I don’t want to believe it either, but something is wrong.”

Sera’s voice chimes in, trembling, “What will we do if they’re uhm… dead.” 

It occurs to David that he didn’t consider this an issue, that he was assuming that this trade was going to be like any other trade that he and Jenna had completed. Something that would go along smoothly, no consequences, no roadblocks that resulted in wasted bullets lodged into the heads of faces that he did not know. 

“I don’t k-”

“We turn around, and that’s it. It’s Cuvier’s problem at that point.” Jenna interrupts. 

“That’s only if they’re dead,” David says coolly, he turns away from Jenna and faces Sera. Kneeling down he rests his hands on her shoulders, looking directly into her eyes. He wants to comfort her, he wants to provide some sort of response that would ease her anxiety--but his voice trembles as he says it. “They won’t be, okay?”

Sera nods her head solemnly, but avoids his eye contact as she does and bites her lip. Jenna doesn’t interrupt but makes a clicking sound with her tongue that strongly disapproves of his statement. He would talk to her later about the inappropriateness of her statement in front of children. Though, it wasn’t shocking. 

They continue to walk, but David doesn’t reach back out for Jenna’s hand, and she doesn’t make it available for him to. Instead, it’s shoved deep into the pockets of her jeans, turning and twisting out of rage, practicing a dialogue that would be delivered when Sera was out of earshot. 

He had asked her once about kids, only once. The conversation that molded into a fight within moments of being voiced served as a set boundary. 

She looked like she could have fainted, slamming a can of provisions onto the old table so harshly it made him flinch. 

“Why on earth would I want to bring a child into this mess of a fucking world?” Her voice rose, disturbing the birds that were lingering outside their window. The flapping of their wings and cries were a warning sign, they were singing for David to apologize, to move the topic to something new before she lost it even further. 

“Sorry, I just thought I would ask you know. The neighbors, they’re expecting. Asked if we would consider it some time, it’s not too bad, us, here.” 

“We do a dangerous job, David, we do a job that gets us nearly killed every single fucking time. And you want to risk my health, your health for a child that’s just going to suffer?” She’s nearly screaming now, her hands hitting the counter repeatedly to make a point, her pale face burning red as she did. 

He sees it now, more apparent than ever that she holds Sera at a distance, treating her like a bag of medicine and other provisions that would be left tucked between rocks and logs for Roland to acquire. This was a piece of merchandise, and not a person to her and the outcome of failure scared her. 

By the time they reach the capital, the morning sun is already low in the sky. The rain had lessened, and then eventually cleared through light gray clouds still lingered. The shades of yellow that warmed the sodden earth makes David yawn, and it’s infectious. Sera yawns as well, staggering her steps as she looks as if she could faint on the spot. Stumbling over her own feet, she ends up clinging to the sleeve of David’s shirt, trying desperately to walk in a steady line. 

“Can you make it up the stairs? There’s a lot of them.” Sera nods her head tiredly, whether or not the Karma society inside will allow her any time to rest before leaving is something he shouldn’t worry about. It won’t be his responsibility soon. Then he can focus on the journey home and how they will end up sneaking back into the quarantine zone with a soldier kill count hanging above their heads.

“Let’s go, I don’t need to waste my morning any further.” Jenna says, already waiting impatiently at the top of the stairs. Her arms are crossed and her leg bounces up and down as she stomps her foot against the cracked marble.

Slowly, they make their way up the stairs. Half carrying and half supporting Sera, her eyes flutter shut repeatedly, and she feels like a sack of flour. “Come on, we’re almost there,” David says encouragingly, he’s met with another nod, and nothing more. 

Jenna paces outside the door, hand pressed to the bridge of her nose. He knows she’s worried about the status of the people inside, but for Sera’s sake he doesn’t allow the thoughts to cross his mind any more than they already has. This plan has to work, he thinks to himself. If Sera means what she says when she says she's immune, it has to work. 

“Come on Jen, it’ll be fine, let’s just end this.” He reaches forward, and the door clicks as it opens. The cool air rushes against his face, carrying the scent of decay and of something familiar, a scent that haunts his nose. 

The scent of blood. 

“I…” Jenna’s voice trails off, she looks flustered, visibly angry as she shoves her way past David and into the middle of the room. "Christ." She finally finishes.

Around her are the mutilated bodies of the Karma Society. Their corpses slouch against pillars, visible signs of bite marks and bullet wounds to the head. Mouths are half-open, frozen in a voiceless scream. Their blood has formed pools underneath their corpses that soaks into the signature white jacket the team uses to signify their involvement with the society. They were unprepared, they were hasty, and it cost them everything. 

“Now what?” Sera asks softly, her once tired eyes are now wide with shock, hugging her frame, undecided on what she should focus on in a macabre scene. 

“I don’t know, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

“I knew it." Jenna laughs bitterly, her hands go through her hair, pushing it back from her face. "This place must be fucking swarming with infected, a fucking trap.” Jenna’s voice rises, shrill, and the gun resting at her hip is now drawn. She turns to the right, and then the left erratically, looking for the invisible enemy. 

“Jenna, no, it’s not a trap, look, they wouldn’t kill this many of their members for a trap, not for two people. That’s not worth it.” David reasons.

She whirls around to face him, her chest heaves up and down with short breaths. “What the fuck do you know about this? You act like you have this whole situation in your jurisdiction just because your brother was in the Karma Society!”

“Hey!” David raises his voice, it startles Jenna he takes a step back, but her determination to fight has not left her eyes, “Don’t fucking bring him into this Jenna, you are walking on very, very, thin ice right now!” 

“Oh? I’m on thin ice? I didn’t even want to fucking do this!”

“We are doing this for a bigger picture. This isn’t about us--”

“Oh, but it’s about a cure!? There’s no fucking cure! It’s been twenty years and they haven’t solved shit!” Jenna screamed, pointing at Sera who had since retreated into the corner, her hands thrown over her ears, staring on with eyes that filled with tears.

“Jenna, we have never seen this, in all our years we have never seen someone who’s immune.”

“Then we’ll hear about it when the society is able to deliver an official statement, but this is not what we do. We need to bring her back to Cuvier, this is her fight, and her problem, not ours. We are not babysitters.”

“I’m thirteen.” Sera pipes in, he almost misses the sound of her voice, soft against the echoing scream from Jenna’s last comment.  
Poorly timed, Jenna turns to face Sera, she raises her hand again, moving it as if it were a gun aimed at the enemy, but before she can scream her next insult, her next pointed message, David interrupts.

“If you continue to scream like this, you’re going to attract whatever killed them.” Her hand lowers slowly, “We just need to leave okay?”

“And go where? To Roland’s? Home?” Her voice is breaking, lowered back to her normal tone, though exasperated. He sees how tired she is now, that despite manning the front in the mission the starting of bags under her eyes that were already a soft shadow of purple. Her hands tremble, weak from lack of sleep, coated in different layers of mud both wet and dry. 

“Going home right now is too risky, not with the fact we slaughtered soldiers, as far as I know, they followed us out here. We… committed a genuine crime this time.” David pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Are we going to jail?” Sera butts in again, she’s left her corner, instead, she now stands on the outside of the verbal ring created from their fights, looking for a way into the conversation. Her hands are clasped together, it looks like she might be praying. Jenna meets her comment with a snort.

“We would be executed, immediately. No questions asked, this isn’t something like a food trade, most soldiers turn a blind eye to those who bring home cigarettes and other outsider objects.” David informs.

“Oh.” Sera shrinks back into her corner.

“Maybe they have a map, something that might tell us where we need to go,” David starts, walking over to one of the corpses, breaking the fingers already set in rigor mortis. He finds nothing, but there were several more options. “Sera, do me a favor and get their backpacks okay? We might as well stock up.”

Wide eyed, but willing, Sera takes small steps near the bodies, with her hands still clasped, she whispers something along the lines of a prayer before gently removing their packs from their bodies, looking particularly green when they moved from her touch.

Jenna stands with her arms crossed, obviously still bubbling with rage, looking for the proper words to continue their fight, but she knew he was right. There was no reason to scream, not out in the open like this. Instead, she stomps over to David’s side, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt tightly in her hands.

“I will not die for her.” She hisses, her tone is low enough that Sera can't hear it, nor would it echo through the empty building walls.

“I won’t either, Jenna, but we’re going to get killed if we go back. We need to give it a few days at least.” Jenna pulls at his shirt, trying to bring him down to her level, demanding eye contact. He doesn’t budge.

“Roland doesn’t want any trespassers nearing him or the Lokapala, we don’t even know where it is.” She counters, David sighs, prying her hands off of his shirt, clasping it in his instead. 

“Are you conceding Angel?”

“For now.” She snarls, yanking her hand back. “This isn’t over.” 

“We will deal with it later.” He responds, “Go look for supplies, alright? We don’t know how far spread out they are, and for god sake if we are going to the Lokapala we oughta have something as a gift.”


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no editing we die like men (again) also this was gonna be longer but i decided i was too tired

“Can we go get food? I’m starving.” Gale asks, opening David’s door without even knocking. He stands in the door frame, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other twisting around the door knob nervously.

“First off, knock, please.” David says, setting down his textbook on his desk. “Second off, dad said no going out for unnecessary things, we’re in lockdown.” 

Gale makes a face. “I know, but dad won’t make dinner and mom won’t come out of her room. Please, just the burger place a mile away, come on.”

The lockdown had been in effect since David had gotten home, his intended visit, which was to be just one day before he had to turn back around--was now indefinite. The city had provided no specific date to end it, asking people and all non-essential workers to stay home. With that, David, Gale, and his mother were all trapped at home, either loafing around on couches or getting into bickering arguments as they had nothing else to do. David had been hiding in his old room, stripped down to the basics as most of his stuff had been just moved into his new apartment near campus. 

“Fine. Go get my keys.” David said, sighing as he stood up. To be honest, he knew it was wrong for them to go out, but the idea of finally getting out of the house was too tempting to deny. They had been going stir crazy, running out of things to do and taking to bothering one another and fighting as if they were children again.  
Gale’s face lightens from it’s normal stern demeanor, and leaves his room. David fumbles around for a jacket and then his wallet. Gale was quietly waiting for him down by the stairs, the window next to the front door propped open as to not trigger the door alarm that went off as you exited to not draw the attention of their mother.

Now he really felt like a child again, using the front window as an escape tactic as he did in high school. Meeting friends outside of his house who had turned their headlights off as to not alarm the ever superstitious Grace. Gale slides into the passenger seat of the car, David into the driver's seat. They know the car will be loud, but they pray that their mother mistakes it for a neighbor, though she is surely too busy battling the headache she had gotten only a day prior. 

The streets are empty, abandoned trash cans still waiting to be picked up on the curb ignored by the families they belong to out of fear that the virus could be airborne. Though some people haven't adjusted their lifestyles in the slightest. In the early mornings when he would watch from his window, bored, he would see older neighbors he once knew by name out jogging, their faces shielded with masks or with hoods drawn over their heads. Only one or two cases had been reported, but any further news had been interrupted by one of the few in the house to switch off the radio or news. David didn’t want to hear it, Gale didn’t want to see it, burying his nose in his phone any time it was brought up, or turning up the music from his headphones so loud David could hear every beat.

“Wow.” Gale says, leaning his head against the window. “Dead out here.”

Just trying to make small talk, David supposed. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, looking for something to add to the conversation his little brother had started, but lacked the motive to say anything. Just nodding his head before pulling up to the fast food place. 

Gale didn’t look like he was looking for answers to anything he said, just voicing things out into the void, trying to soothe the emptiness inside. But even David, with something to add to everything usually, had nothing to say. It had already been said before.

Unsurprisingly, there was a white sheet of paper taped to the door, forbidding anyone but employees to enter the lobby. It had become drive-thru only, and the number of staff had dwindled down as businesses made desperate cuts to their staff and everything else to try and save money. Some areas, even their dads job, were starting to declare bankruptcy, David tried not to think about it, upsetting to see the places he frequented as a youth beginning to be closed down and boarded up. 

David leans back in the front seat to allow Gale to lean over and shout his order to the girl behind the drive-thru mic. Jumping on the chance to eat something beside old box macaroni found in the back of the pantry, David ordered as well.

At the window, the girl who had taken their order took the money as well. Swiping the debit card Gale had, before frowning and returning it to them.  
“It was declined.” She said flatly. Under her eyes were circles, dead eyes that bore into the brothers as Gale fished around for spare change in David’s car. After a few moments of the two of them desperately searching, she leaned back into the restaurant, and hit a few buttons on the computer. The register swings open before she slams it shut. It makes them flinch, but she looks unbothered, crumpling the receipt into a little ball before discarding it to the floor inside.

“Whatever, don’t sweat it okay. Place is closing down anyway, doesn’t matter.” 

“Oh, bummer.” David says awkwardly. She doesn’t acknowledge him, instead turning back to grab their orders, he didn’t see anyone else in there, he wondered if it was just her alone in there. She shrugs her shoulders, looking as if it didn’t matter one way or another. Many people had just accepted the fact they were without a job, a hard thing to take lying down, but there wasn’t much else they could do. Not even essential jobs were hiring now, afraid to bring outsiders into their staff in fear of the virus spreading.  
“It’s what it is.” After the last drink was handed from the window, she let it slam shut, offering no goodbyes. Instead, just standing there was a blank expression as she watched them roll up the window and slowly drive off. Gale turns around in his seat, peering behind them as they drive off.

David feels uneasy about leaving her. The woman who was working was someone he had gone to high school with, and had worked at that restaurant the entire time he had known her. Usually she was optimistic, offered them great customer service and occasionally snuck something extra in the bag if she was feeling exceptionally flirty. Oh well, he thinks. This had changed everyone, to lose a job you had been at for over three years was hard on everyone, especially when it was one of the few mom and pop restaurants left around. He can’t imagine how poorly the owners must be taking it, and frankly, he doesn’t want to. Images of bodies laying on the old tile in the restaurant lobby were too much to bear, he tried to think of anything else, any other image that could distract it. Puppies, kittens, anything other than blood and gore.

Gale said nothing, just clenched the brown paper bag in his hand tightly with a grim look on his face.

“It’s fine, Gale, really.” The hesitation in his voice as he tried to comfort his brother made him not even believe himself. Though he was hoping for there to be at least something he could say to get that unsettling look off of his face.

“Okay.” 

“Cool we got it for free though.” He says, trying to add to the conversation that was shut down.

Gale shrugs his shoulders, opening the bag and rooting around. “The fries are cold.” He says flatly, lifting a limp fry up. 

“We can put it in the oven when we get back.” 

Gale makes a face as he chews. “Stale too.”

David sighed, his attempts at making any light out of the situation was falling, and there wasn’t much left in him to fight for it anyway. Instead, he would let Gale roll in his sorrow, saying nothing. Listening to the sound of the engine and the occasional scoff as Gale ate each of the stale fries from the bag.

They remain in silence when they get home. Silently shutting the car doors and tip toeing on the concrete. Gale goes in through the window first, then reaches for each bag of food before David slips in himself. There’s no sign of their mom anywhere, she probably hadn’t budged from her bed in hours, sleeping on and off through meals and different events, not even stirring to answer her phone which was then shut off by their father. 

Gale sits on the kitchen counter while David starts the toaster oven. While he may be complacent with eating cold fries, David wasn’t ready to drop his standards just yet. His phone chirps, and he pulls it out of his hoodie pocket with haste.

“Dad’s at the office until late. They’re having a meeting again.” He says, tossing it down on the counter. The plastic case makes a thwack sound that reverberates in David’s head, but he doesn’t bother to scold him. 

“Alright, good thing we got dinner then.” 

“He wants us to check on mom.” Gale says, twisting his hands together. “I don’t really want to see her, I’m scared.”

Gale’s voice had dropped to a whisper, and he hung his head in embarrassment. David sympathizes, it was cruel, but he had been avoiding their mother as if she had the plague out of fear that she quite literally had the plague. 

“I know. I can do it, for you, you don’t have to come in or anything okay?” David says, swallowing his own fear. 

“Okay.” 

**

“Let her brood.” David warns after they exit the capitol building. Jenna brushes past them, her hand curled at her side, she waits for neither of them but doesn’t stray off too far, making the distance between them notable. 

Sera nods her head, she looks anxiously between the two, but chooses to stay by David’s side. His hands are resting in his pockets, keeping a close eye on his partner who kicked at every rock within sight.

The outcome was unexpected, though, he should have known that the mission would be running too smoothly, though this was a headache to even consider how they would get back into the city, now that there was evidence of an infected person running around with two others, it would be too risky, it would be nearly impossible, and Jenna knew that as well. 

While they were rummaging, Jenna muttered things under her breath again, she wasn’t one to keep things to herself, it was more difficult to get her to not express herself rather than experience this sort of behavior. Though he knows they hadn’t run this ragged before, they had never slipped up before. It was a new sort of consequence to learn from, something that made it nearly impossible to recover from likely. How would they manage to get back into a city that was hot on any suspicious person's tail? Had Cuvier been informed? Or did she believe that it was simply going to be alright because she left it to them?

David leans back on his heels, his backpack heavy with the weight of newly scavenged items, packs of dry food and other sorts of survival items for just a few days, they hadn’t been expecting it either. He lets out a low whistle, then stands up.

“Find anything?” He asks, “Well, anything of interest?” 

Sera shakes her head, Jenna kicks the ankle of the deceased in front of her. It rolls, sending the corpse wiggling to the left, slumping oddly. “No, not even a map.” She hisses.

“You should respect the dead.” Sera interjects. Bravely, David thinks to himself. 

“Some people forget they need to earn my respect.”

David can’t tell if the message is directed at Sera or at the corpse, or even more risky, it could be aimed at him. 

David pats Sera’s back to help her keep moving, he felt awkward. The silence between them that acknowledged the fact that Sera continuing to tag along in a mission no one wanted to take would make her a burden in their eyes. David feels bad, well, she is just a kid, and if she is truly an immune kid, it makes it worse. Being a child of prodigy but having no one who seems to be interested in protecting you rather than simply protecting your worth. 

Sera doesn’t respond, but she keeps moving, staying close to David’s side, spending more time looking down at her feet compared to looking at the terrain in front of her, only bothering to stop and climb when David mentions something. 

As for Jenna, she keeps her distance, only looking back occasionally, checking to see if they're alive, but she avoids eye contact, only staring past him or at his feet. Annoying, he thinks. Though her anger is justified.

“Jenna, wait for us.” He asks, helping Sera climb over another hill of debris, jutted rocks stuck out tangled with different wires disguised by high grass threatens to cut at exposed ankles.  
“No.”  
He groans, and then pinches the bridge of his nose, though she does slow her pace for just a moment.

“You know what’s funny?” Jenna says, breaking the silence between them.

Sera lets out a low whistle, and then looks up at David who adjusts his glasses in preparation for what could be another blow out. “I’m not sure it’ll be funny.” 

“It won’t be.” David mutters to her, he points over toward the corner and tilts his head to bushes that surround it. “Maybe go look over there for me, kid?” 

She nods, and doesn’t hesitate to retreat, while Jenna approaches him. Round two he supposed.

“Yes, Jenna?” Removing his glasses from his face, he wipes them off on the corner of his shirt. It would make it easier for him to speak with her if the anger on her face was blurred.

“We said we would take her to the capitol building. And well? Now we’re halfway to the fuckin’ Lokapala! What the hell are we gonna tell them?” 

He doesn’t bother to respond, or interrupt, would be the better would for it as it seemed like she had no interest in stopping.

“You know he has no interest in even us visiting, or entering into the actual camp, how are we supposed to present to him an infected girl and ask for shelter for a few days?”

“We’re not telling anyone she’s infected Jenna, that’s stupid on our parts. And if you hardly believe her, there’s no telling how poorly someone else will take that “gift” of hers.”

Jenna leans back, hands on her hips. “So you believe her?”

“What?” He finally puts his glasses back on.

“You said that if I barely believed her, but you didn’t include yourself. So? Do you believe her? Does that mean I am solely the bad guy?”

“The bad guy? Jenna, that’s not at all what implied,” He sighs loudly, not trying to hide his irritation. If she was looking for a fight, there was a good chance she would receive it. “And I didn’t say I believed her either, but she’s a kid for god sake, we don’t need her blowing her head off because we’re not trying to help.” 

“We are not babysitters.” 

“We are not babysitting! She’s twelve--”

“Thirteen!” Sera calls out. 

“Yes, thank you Sera, she is thirteen.” He wishes she wasn’t listening into the fight, though he doesn’t blame her. Though she’s toying with the green leaves of a bush, she’s no different than the child who sits on the stairs listening to her parents fight downstairs about something.

“Are you aware if that bush is poisonous or not? I don’t need you poisoning yourself.” Jenna snaps. Sera turns to face them, eyes wide like a deer in headlights, and opens her hand, dropping a handful of dark berries to the dirt below her. 

David sighs loudly, she is not helping in proving the case that she’s mature enough to be handling this, or that she won’t get them killed. “There’s your thirteen year old.”

The argument fizzles out for now, Jenna turns back on her heels and continues to walk a bit ahead, Sera stays close behind David, basically at his heels like an obedient dog.  
“I wasn’t going to eat them.” Sera reassures. 

“I know,” David says, “Just, listen to Jenna right now. Let’s just keep this moving as smoothly as we can, for now.”

Jenna waits for them up ahead, her arms are crossed and she taps her foot. By the time they reach her, she looks even more unsettled, irritated, and like she has something more to say to him that is hidden behind her eyes, and the fact there was a child with them.

“Yes dear?” He jokes. Jenna is not ready for jokes.

“There’s solar noise up ahead, I can hear it from here.”

“Mm, no way around it?” David asks, turning his backpack around to pull his gas mask out, Jenna joins him. Sera looks lost.

“What’s solar noise? Why do you have a gas mask?” 

Jenna makes a noise of irritation, squinting her eyes at David before turning away, leaving her partner floundering for an explanation of something that had become common knowledge between others. 

“Well,” David starts,Sera stares back expectantly, “It’s like how the Asuras are, where they’re really infected people, but it’s that with, like, the environment.”

“The environment can get infected?” 

“Lord.” Jenna curses under her breath, and then shakes her head. “David, you’re failing her. What’s the point anyway, without a gas mask she’s as good as dead.”  
“Jenna!” David snapped, turning on his heels to face her. “We don’t know that, if she’s truly immune, it might not affect her.”

Sera’s wide blue eyes stare at David, burning with trust, an innocent stare that leaves him uncomfortable. She might have trusted his words, but he wasn’t entirely sure--bravado may be the only thing that allowed him to confidently walk into this subway with three people, worried he would come out with only two. 

Jenna lingers in the front of the subway opening, her face mask is already pulled down, and even through the tinted windows of her mask, he can tell she's irritated. Frankly, he was irritated as well, the lack of sleep and the fact that their relationship had disintegrated into arguments thrown over Sera’s head. Regardless, Jenna touches the back of his hand as they stand in front of the opening. 

They can feel it in the air around them. A heaviness, a dankness that comes with the weight of a thousand little crystals on your skin that nip and tug at any exposed flesh. 

“What are you talking about, with the air? It feels fine.” Sera says, she leans over into the opening of the subway tunnel, and breathes in. David’s heart stops, and for a second Jenna does too, grabbing his hand in fear. Though not verbally expressing it, there was no immunity in watching a child die.

“It’s just foggier in there,” Sera adds. She turns back to look at them, and the relief that shows on her face. 

“Oh what the hell.” Jenna breathes out. “She’s really…” 

Sera beams, her expression is over the top. “I said I wasn’t lying. It's like normal oxygen! I can breathe it, I can breathe it!”

“Yes Sera, and we believed you, but this wasn’t the first time we had heard this before. We just… wanted to make sure before we really did.”

“She’s immune.” Jenna says, finishing her sentence. 

Overcome with joy, Sera launches herself full speed into the subway terminal. Her hands are outstretched and her steps are quick and light, jumping around as if they had just freed her from shackles. Though Jenna’s persecution was something that was similar in weight.

Her excitement doesn’t last long, eventually she falls back behind them, releasing her hold on the lead and giving it back to Jenna, who in return passes it along to David. His height was a helpful bonus in these situations, with a bit of an advantage over the level of fog that was heavier toward the ground, he often kept an eye out for strands of infection that had climbed up the iron posts, that or ledges that may allow for a quicker exit with solar noise.

“So,” Sera begins, breaking the silence of the journey. “Why is it called Solar Noise? Solar is like, a word for sun, right? This seems a bit too foggy for uhm, the sun.”  
Jenna groans, again, her irritation is not even masked by her actual gas mask. Even David is rather lost for an explanation, the origin of the phrase wasn’t designed by them. But in this scenario, where Sera knows nothing about the world, it seemed as if they were the Gods who owed her every answer.

He wishes they could answer, the madness that followed while hunting for the route cause of the virus was almost more of a world destroyer than the virus itself. Accusations based with only blatant racism before moving to religious accusations, screaming that it was a curse from God left everyone confused. No one wanted to listen to the lead scientists who had said it was a basic genetic mutation was not enough to calm the masses who listened to any dramatized media outlet blaming anything from the smallest particle to something as vast as the sun.

“They blamed the sun, for a little.” Sera looks over, her face scrunches up as David continues. “Saying something about the malignant data was contaminating human DNA, much as it does if you were to contract sun cancer. They said it was a type of cancer at first, that instead of rapidly killing off cells with mutation, were reviving them and spreading the infection. However, I’m not sure that’s how either of them work.”  
“Why the sun?”

“The Karma society started the rumors.” Jenna adds, “Their work has always been a helio-religious organization, when all of this started they used their status to try and build a following by offering leadership.” 

Sera nods her head, David feels bad about telling her the information about the society from an outsider standpoint, especially when her guardian had been the leader of the same organization that had done nothing more than breakdown relationships and increase the fighting between the survivors.  
“Oh, okay. Madame Cuvier never mentioned stuff like that.”

Jenna snorts, kicking some of the rubble near her feet as hard as she could. The clang of the rusting pipe made Sera jump, as she uneasily looks between them. “Of course she didn’t. If you’re her hope, or anyone’s hope, she wants you for her side of the issue. To bring it back to that glorious status as it once was by offering a cure.”

“Alright, that's enough of this conversation, okay?” David interjects. “No more Karma Society talk, at least until we are out of the subway. I don’t need us attracting anything right now, because someone is getting too riled up.”

“I’m not getting riled up.” 

“I didn’t say your name.”

Jenna harrumphs.

“Let’s just get out of here? It’s been quiet so far but there’s no guarantee of what might be waiting for us on the other side. We’re moving into territory we don’t know as well.”

Silence stretches between them. David remains in the front, his gun drawn just in case as they move deeper into the subway terminal. Old areas where the trains may have run had become deep pools of collected rainwater. Moss and algae created a film over the top of the water that was dark and murky. Unknown to what might be lurking under it, David prayed that it would only be an accompaniment as they walked compared to something he would have to brave. Lucky for him, his partner lacked necessary swimming skills, and he wasn’t even sure how buoyant Sera would be, considering she still looked as if she hadn’t starved a day in her life. 

Strands of flesh that stretched across different cracks in the subway to a muddled corpse on the ground that looked as if it had been ripped apart sloppily, spreading gore around like confetti. Sera made a gagging noise, hiding behind Jenna’s frame as they stopped. Without road signs, or any signs in general, scavengers and travelers had learned to use the deceased bodies as markers. Much like the frozen bodies along Mount Everest, they worked in similar fashions. Though this one was newer. Meat still clung to the ivory bones that reflected white from their flashlights and the scent of rot had only now started to become sweet.  
“New one.” Jenna says, she looks away from it and moves ahead, not one to linger. David sighs, and clicks off his  
flashlight, allowing the corpse to continue to rest in the darkness and rubble that served as it’s makeshift coffin. 

Sera still looks green as they move on. Occasionally looking over her shoulder, biting her lip, troubled as she decides whether or not to add to the conversation with whatever was plaguing her mind. 

Death did not trouble them the way it might have back when it all began. With the ever increasing levels of gore and grime that were along the way, the only way to continue to become desensitized to whatever was laying waste at your feet. Boots covered in thick layers of grime that built on top of itself until you were able to crack it off and it kept it’s form. He needed Sera to adjust, they would not have time to offer every body a shoe box funeral.

The length of the subway terminal was long enough to leave them exhausted. The sunlight that pours from the opening in the distance is enough to remind David they were too close to stop for a break, not that he wanted to. He was almost certain that if he had stopped whatever primal part of him that was keeping him moving he would simply collapse right there in the dirt.

“We can take a break when we get out of here, okay?” He offers this to Sera, who is trudging behind, her hand is gripping the fabric on the back of Jenna’s coat like a lifeline, using that to pull her along and almost stepping on her heels with each step. 

Jenna must have either reached a point of exhaustion herself where she was no longer interested in snapping at Sera to let go, or had just become so exhausted it wasn’t worth mentioning. 

“I know you’re tired.” He adds in, “I am too.” 

When they exit the subway, Jenna immediately shakes Sera off of her, along with her coat. Immediately collapsing down next to a tree stump only a few feet away. David sits down on the stump, removing his backpack and then his gas mask. He rubs at the indentations from the straps on his face. Jenna has yet to remove hers, laying flat on her back instead. Her chest rises and falls slowly, as if she had already fallen asleep.

David rubs his face, and then reaches over to Jenna, nudging her. “Jen, you gotta take your mask off I need to put them away.” 

“Mmm, in a moment.” She says. He gives her a moment, and true to her word, she sits up, untying her mask from her face and then handing it to David who tucks it away into his backpack. 

“I’ll give you a half hour to rest, then we’ll switch.” David looks up at Sera, "You too kid, go ahead."

Whether or not they were fully rested, they’re back on their feet before they know it. The sun had started to set by the time David stirred. They had traded off about an hour or so into Jenna’s nap. She had woken up, offered nothing more than a bitter “Good morning.” And then motioned for him to move over so she could take watch.

David laid on his side, facing her while his jacket served as a makeshift pillow. He finds himself wishing for the one back at their house. A twist in the gut makes him grimace, a gain of guilt sharp as a knife that makes me close his eyes to avoid the sight of his partner. He cannot find himself in good nature looking into her steely face, that is no doubt rushing with the same thoughts that have been haunting the back of his mind since the moment they had the silence to think. 

This is stupid, he thinks. There’s nothing they could do to further this girl's life, her journey--if anything they might be the one thing that could end up killing her. They should have turned back home the second they had to leave the zone. 

“Stop fretting. Get some sleep, who knows when we’re going to have the time to again.” Jenna says, her voice is lacking in the irritation that showed in her comment earlier. David doesn’t bother to open his eyes, there is too much regret within him that would allow for him to look at her without the tears that threaten to spill if he were to open his eyes and see her.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck tlou2 all my homies hate tlou2. i will continue to write this out of spite of being better than tlou2

Before them lies a large green road side covered in white spray paint. The corners are bent, and one half of it has melted into the ground underneath it. Whatever the original route, or original city that was engraved on it had been covered by black spray paint, marked over and over again with different pieces of graffiti until it was illegible. The only thing that remained on it was two white arrows, and a childish scrawling of a house. 

“See that? Means we’re nearing the drop point.” David points at the sign, “The two arrows mean that it’s another two miles, and then the house means the safe house where we make trades.” 

“What do the words under it say?” Sera asked, squinting and leaning in closer. Her hand hesitates to touch the metal. She leans left and then right, trying to make out any lettering from the black spray paint that had faded away over years of weather. 

“I didn’t live here, nor did David. It doesn’t really matter.” Jenna deadpans with a shrug. She runs a hand through her hair, taking it down from the ponytail and refashioning it into a bun. 

The humidity from the previous rain in the day prior had left for a rather swampy feeling day. David uses his hand to fan the back of her neck while they waited for Sera to lose interest in the sign. They were all, without doubt, probably miserable. Though the layers of their clothing were removed carefully, most of them still remained. Despite the fear of the infected, a fear of sun poisoning was also still a common threat. Exposed skin could burn easily under the intense summer sun, and they didn’t have time to waste to treat any sun sickness that could occur if they weren’t careful enough. 

“Where did you live then?” Sera asks later, she and David walked hand in hand as they maneuvered through the old highway. Various debris that littered the roads as they followed the various signs and markers strewn about. Most of them didn’t make sense anymore, but considering they had been here recently, within the past month, there was less complaining from the two. 

Chunks of pavement missing from the road are full of muddy water, David admits to himself that if it were just them, he would have tried to splash Jenna with the water, but she scouted up ahead, a look on her face telltale to her mood. Scattered as much as the potholes are old cars. Reminding him of a dog that laid with its legs sprawled out, with their tires melted, eroded down into the smooth rubber covered in a layer of dust in grime. Their hoods are popped open, hollow on the inside, their engines snatched away long ago by looters, or even the desperate military. Now they were full of twigs and other debris. The cars are jammed together bumper to bumper, a clustered roadblock that starts from the highway and trickles down as they near the city.

“Out west.” Jenna says, “Small town, doesn’t matter.” 

Ever the conversationalist, David thinks to himself. Though he doesn’t blame her, it didn’t really matter, the name of their towns were pointless trivia. Sera has yet to let go of his hand, hopping over different potholes or tiptoeing around debris.

“I lived down south, about a few hours by car.” David provided, a bit more than Jenna, hoping it might be enough to sate her. 

“Do you miss it?”

The question strikes him like a bullet, something he realizes he hasn’t thought of in forever, the idea of missing his hometown had been so shoved down between survival and politics of this all, he doesn’t know what to say. For a moment he stops walking, racking his brain for a memory, for a thought on an abandoned home that he was sure he would never see again, and something he wasn’t sure he could ever face again. 

“Stupid question.” Jenna responds for him. “No one asked for this.” Sera makes a face to Jenna’s back, a mix of frustration and sadness that makes her bottom lip jut out again. David gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“What she means is that no one has thought of it in a long time.” His voice is softer, “We try to make a home out of what we have in the quarantine zones.”

Whether the answer was enough, or maybe she just felt too embarrassed to probe further, Sera nods her head and then goes back to her makeshift game of hopscotch. They walk in silence for a bit more before Sera begins her second round of questions.

“Who are the Lokapala?” 

“They’re a group, they run separate from the military in an abandoned base. Roland, who you’ve heard mentioned, is someone we work with. We do merchandise runs with one another.” 

“Oh! Like the illegal merchandise, got it.” 

“There are no laws, just chaos.” Jenna says flatly. “We do what no one else can or will or wants, without failure.” She turns, making eye contact with Sera. The end of her sentence was directly pointed at her, they all knew it. 

“Sorry…” Sera says, the face she made earlier returning. David sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Jenna looks annoyed again, the worry lines that run across her forehead deepens as she scrunches her face up. “It’s true.”

Unwillingly to let the conversation die, Sera continues. “How did you meet Roland then? You’ve really never been inside the Lokapala? I thought you were friends.”   
Jenna looks over her shoulder at David, they lock eyes for a moment but David shakes his head. Sera looks between them, confused. “David and Roland were good friends.” 

“What?”

Jenna’s face breaks and the corner of her lips twitch into a grin. “Nothing.” She muses, her voice significantly lighter than David had heard all day.  
Sera’s face stays confused, missing the pointed daggers from David’s glare and the amusement that made Jenna cover her mouth with her hand as she laughed silently. 

David didn’t blame her for being nosy, she was probably bored, and tired. Walking for hours in silence was a task that was grueling enough for most adults, he was sure it was taking a toll on her though she didn’t complain. Probably out of fear that Jenna’s mood would change.

“To answer the last part of your question, no, neither of us has ever been inside the Lokapala.” Roland had made sure of it a few times, something about protecting the location in case there was ever a backfire in trust, in case the military ever came looking for the stowaways that functioned outside the quarantines. “It’s a safety precaution for them.”

For the most part, David wasn't sure why the Lokapala existed as a separate faction. They were self ruling, though he was sure they struggled almost worse than anyone who had at least the chance of eating due to their ration cards. Though without limitations, curfews, or having the military breathing down your neck consistently, he was sure they had found various ways to get by—including trading with David. 

She nods, whether she understands it or not is something David doesn’t bother to ask. He’s getting a bit tired of her questions and Jenna serves as no help, either dodging whatever Sera asks her, or leaving it to David to answer by running ahead to scout out any infected that may or may not have been missed by Roland’s watchful eye. 

“So are there a lot of them? Are there any kids my age?” Sera asks, the tone of her voice hopeful. 

“Maybe. I don’t really know how many of them actually reside there. I wouldn’t be shocked if it was just Roland, maybe Adil and Lupa.”

“Didn’t Lupa have a kid?” Jenna asks. Sera perks up.

“Ah, right.” David snaps his fingers, “Frank? I think?” 

Jenna makes a face, and shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it was Frank.”

“Freddy?” 

“Fred! That’s what it was.” Jenna says with a nod. “Roland mentioned him once or twice. Requested a few things that a kid might like. Nothing more than a name and request.”

Sera looked like she had revitalized some of her energy, her steps had perked up more, and were better at staying in line with David’s. He doesn’t blame her for the hopefulness of wanting a kid her age to talk to. Walking around with two adults would be dull for any kid, especially when one of them was completely unwilling to entertain, or provide any answers to the questions she had. All one thousand of them.

“Don’t touch the cars, some might have an alarm still set. You’d be shocked at the amount of them that still have that intact.” Jenna calls from ahead. 

That task becomes increasingly difficult as they move into town. The exits are still cramped by cars that were waiting to escape, waiting to be led into a quarantine zone. Multiple times they had to stop, guns drawn and a rock thrown to gently test whether or not it would sound off with a touch, or a nudge. Luckily, like the cars behind them, they were dead. Crawling through the gaps between are, sliding over the hoods and stepping gingerly, they eventually break through the cluster.  
Ripped apart suitcases are lying all around in the empty patch ahead , scattered pieces of clothing trampled into the dirt that had burst out of the suitcases. Some had been stacked, overturned and dumped out, laying face first in the dirt. Looters, he was sure of it, anything of worth was probably long gone now. 

Different pieces of clothing these days sold for a hefty price, anything that was missing the bland stamped military logo on clothing stitched together with what felt like burlap had become a luxury. Old designer clothing, even clothing with the ugliest of font or a crudely drawn animal were things that people actively craved.   
It was the same with David’s t-shirt. It was true that he hadn’t ever been to New York, never planned on it, was never interested—not even with the option to attend a college there. But it felt like a part of his life, prior to this, that had to be saved. A faded, yellowing t-shirt that was so comical, so out of place with the gore, it was bitterly hilarious. 

Sera pauses in the middle of the road, she had let go of David’s hand a bit ago, talking to herself and slowing her pace to explore more, peeking into cars whose windows were still intact, mouthing things to herself when she nudged over suitcases. Jenna had sharply reminded her they only took what they needed, that this wasn’t a shopping excursion. 

Her expression is troubled, looking between cars and suitcases that offered no answers. David knows for a fact that the school system created within the military factions never went into excruciating detail of what happened during the initial outbreak. Most adults, the first hand survivors, who could provide any sort of look into the tragedy had refused to speak of it, turning to alcohol or anything that might numb the memories. It was best to forget a life that was unable to be returned to. There was no reason to cling to memories that only made it more and more difficult for them to move on.

The military flat out avoided it, pretending that the atrocities they committed were brave and necessary. Things such as bombing out towns with people still inside to try and decrease the number of new cases, to flat out gunning people down in the streets of infected towns, not bothering to see whether or not they could be saved, or if they were even infected at all. And there wasn’t much they could do to deny it, people who spoke out actively would often disappear. The military was dedicated to focusing it onto their bravery and extreme success and helpfulness of the military in recuperating humanity. 

“Those are little kid shoes.” Sera says suddenly. She’s kneeling down, holding up a pair of very small shoe by the frayed laces. It looks like it had been torn apart by wild animals, he was sure it had, the front of the sole busting open and serving as a makeshift planter for what looked like some kind of weed. The original color was masked by the thickness of the mud, hiding whatever logo of the brand. The other half of the pair was carried a bit further, flattened into the road as well. David would have missed it if Sera hadn’t walked over and spent a moment prying it out from the road with her hands. She holds them together gingerly in her hands, the tips of her fingers are caked in dirt, looking green as she lifts them to David. He doesn’t comment, his stomach has gone cold, turning uncomfortably as he looks to Jenna for some sort of answer, something to say to Sera. But even she is silent, a look of grief so apparent on her face that it takes her a moment to wipe it blank again when she catches David staring.

“Put them down Sera, we don’t have time for that.” Jenna’s voice gets caught in her throat, the intensity of the sentence falling as she looks away.   
The hardest part of traveling with Sera was realizing that whatever world had been created for her by Cuvier, the world that protected her from some of the horrors that David and Jenna had lived through, were the very same ones that she would have to learn. 

“Come on, don’t worry about that.” David reaches out to take the shoes from Sera’s outstretched hands. He sets them down gently near the suitcase where Sera had found the first one. It looked safer, nestled into a torn piece of clothing, swaddled by sets of shirts both male and female. He swallows the lump in his throat, and shuts his eyes as he stands up, trying to keep himself together. 

“Can we say something?” Sera pleads, reaching down to smooth out the arrangement. She sets the shoes on top of them, then drags out one of the old floral shirts to cover it, tucking it in gently. 

“What?” Jenna snorts. He didn’t notice that she had come over and had reached down to hold his hand tightly, rubbing small circles into the back of his palm. She watches Sera with pity, intensely following each movement Sera made. 

“Like a prayer.” Sera looks up at them, and clasps her hands together, motioning for them to do the same.

“God can’t save them Sera. It’s been twenty years.” Something snaps in David, making him reach down, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her away from the scene. He can’t help but quicken his pace, ignoring her protests. He wanted to get away from it, away from the reality of the situation that he had grown so numb to. Her dark eyes are still focused on the shoes until she can’t keep her neck twisted like that longer.

Eventually they reach a high chain link fence, standing a good three or four feet above David’s height, he notes it’ll be unlikely that anyone could climb it. Not only the height, but the fact the top had a barbed wire, braided with different vegetation that had snaked up the sides. A touch that was human, if it had been let alone, it would have just swallowed the fence easily, but utilizing it--weaponizing it, was a very Roland based decision. It increased security alright, and David’s mildly growing agitation for the Lokapala. 

“Guess the Lokapala are behind this huh?” Jenna says, her hands on her hips. 

David lets out a low whistle as he stands beside her. “Guess so.”

Without the fact it was too tall to climb, and the vegetation based weapon making it a roadblock, the front of the gate itself had been chained shut with a padlock so rusted they weren’t sure that even the key could open it at this point; not only that, but there was an old crow bar shoved between the handles on the other side as another protected measure. David tested it’s durability by giving the fence a good shake, but the crowbar didn’t budge.

“Overkill.” He hears Jenna grumble. The further comments she has are lost to the sounds of birds, and the occasional rattle of the metal fence as Sera stands in front of it. She shakes it once or twice herself, and then sighs. David sympathizes. 

Forced to try and find another way around, Jenna and David walk the perimeter. Looking for anything that might allow for them to pass the barbed wire without getting shredded, or get through the crowbar without blowing the lock off with valuable ammo. Jenna shakes her head when she catches David’s eye. The fence had areas that could have been given, but they were either braided with brambles or blocked off with something too heavy to move through the fence. 

“I guess we find another—“ 

“Sera! What the hell!?” David turns his attention back over to the front of the gate. Backpack off, jacket strewn over it, Sera is laying flat on her back, holding the bottom of the fence up as she attempts to wiggle under it. 

Jenna rushes over, and instead of dragging her out, grabs the bottom of the fence from Sera’s hands and tilts it up toward her. “God, let us help you before you attempt to pull a stunt like this!!” With her help, Sera is able to get under it, brushing herself off and wearing a proud smile on her face. 

“Sorry, I thought I’d surprise you!” 

“No surprises, we need to stick together, be aware of everyone’s move at all times.” David says as he joins Jenna’s side. Though she had gotten through the fence with the one alternative he didn’t consider. “Good work, kid.” 

Sera beams with the compliment, then pulls the crowbar out from behind the handles. Jenna gives it a little shake afterward, but it still doesn’t budge.

“Sorry! I don’t know what to do about the lock.” She says, lifting the rusted chain in her hand. “There’s nothing over here that will help me get it off.” 

Jenna motions to the crowbar, and Sera furrows her brow, but slides it through one of the gaps in the fence. Raising it over her head, David immediately covers his ears as she brings the blunt end down repeatedly on the rusted lock until it pops off. Sera had jumped a few feet back, her hand over her heart. 

“Jeez!” 

“Well usually I would have shot it.” Jenna says, as if that were the issue they had with her choice.

David bends down and gathers Sera’s stuff in his arms. “Okay.” David says with a sigh, running his hands through his hair afterward. “Well, we just wont tell Roland what happened, yeah?” 

Jenna shrugs, and then discards the crowbar back into the dirt once they enter the gate. “If he’s got a problem with it, he’ll fix it.” 

Regrouped, they make their way through the beginnings of the Lokapala faction. Different traps were lined up through the entryway. If you had been a part of it, or had gone through it before, it would have been easier. But for now, uncertain with the terrain, and the effectiveness of said traps--they used little stones or poked at fishy areas with the end of sticks or loose bottles. 

Most of the traps were rabbit snare based, they swung into the area with a satisfying crack, their captured prey only being a stick or broken off piece of a bottle.   
“Jeez, who are they looking out for?” Sera must have realized her question was ridiculous the second it left her mouth. Jenna snorted, but said nothing in response, her silence was insulting enough.

But David didn’t blame her. He wasn’t certain if these traps were meant for human sized enemies, or hunting purposes. Most of them around the alleyways were empty, beside the occasional bird that startled David with the same intensity stumbling into an infected would. Jenna mocked him softly, often stretching her arm out to keep him back when she checked around corners, joking to Sera that there might be something too much for David to handle.

It was nice to see her in a better mood, it must be some sort of reward to Sera for getting them through the doors. Giving her a bit of information, answering unasked questions, Jenna seemed entirely like she was beginning to warm up to their little sidekick, that or she was just pleased to have a chance to talk about one of her favorite topics--herself. 

“I joined the “black market” when I first moved to the coast faction.” Jenna starts, without much prompt. “I’ve always been a part of them, even back where I’m from.”   
Sera nods, eyes wide. She abandons David’s side to take after Jenna, taking her hand whenever it was offered, following behind her footsteps so close he was positive there would be a chance she would stomp her heel. 

“I met David five years ago. We were paired to make a drop here, actually.” 

“Ah yes, I valiantly saved you, I remember!” David inserted.

Sera giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. If she were a cat, Jenna would be standing with her hair on end, bristled. Her face burned red.   
“You didn’t valiantly save me, you knocked me on my ass and took my kill!” 

“No, Jen, you tripped and almost got bitten. I remember it—this was my area first, but you wouldn’t listen to me.” 

Sera looks giddy, seemingly forgetting the reality of the world, instead she watched them bicker. Though Jenna’s tone was firmer, there was an undercurrent of affection if you focused hard enough. David’s voice was loving, he gazed at Jenna and reached out to tuck a black curl that had slipped from her bun back behind her ear. 

Afterward they all go back into silence, though far more comfortable, David feels as if it would never be enough to keep Sera’s mind from wandering. A child who had never as much as stepped away from the watchful eye of Madame Cuvier or the military would suffer shell shock from the brutality. He worries. 

Further in the heart of the city only does it become clear just how lived in it was. The number of traps dwindles, as does their fear of bumping into any infected. There was only one that they had come across, but it was handled easily with a knife while it moaned in a corner. Empty oil drums stand in the corners of streets, they are full of charred branches and other trash. A makeshift fire or even a trash can. Areas of the pavement and cement had been cleared off in designated walkways that were guarded by cars lined up on the side. He wasn’t sure how they were moved over there, but he doesn’t question the amount of people who resided here. The determined few could do anything. 

“You two stay on the lookout okay? We’ve never been here before and there could be traps. We don’t know how the Lokapala will respond and I don’t wa—“ 

The cracking of a rope cut him off. In the blink of an eye, David was strung up from a rope tightly coiled around his ankle. His glasses are thrown down into the dirt beneath him as he flails around, grasping at the air to try and steady him as he swung back and forth wildly. David was not one to really scream, not even in dire situations, he tended to keep his cool, however, strung up in the air like a pinata, he couldn’t help but start yelling, swinging his arms around with imaginary punches toward enemies he wasn’t sure were there or not--the world was blurry.Without his glasses, much of the world is a dizzy place, fuzzy shapes without hard edges and the only thing that he can pick out had to be within inches of his face. 

“David!” Jenna screams, completely disregarding her own safety, barreling toward him. 

“Jenna stay back! Fuckin’ don’t come close there could be more.” He yells. His body can’t stop flinging itself around, his face feels the pressure of all of the blood rushing to it. 

“David! Calm down you’re making it worse!” Jenna’s voice, though muffled by the rushing sound of blood in his ears, is panicked. She grabs him by the waist, attempting to steady him. 

“Sera, the rope, it looks like it’s tied over there!” He tries to calm down now steadied, he reaches desperately for Jenna, who attempts to calm him, saying something he can’t make out in a low tone. Slowed from panicked breaths, David is still short on breath, gasping for air to try and calm his heart that slams in his chest and throat, making it feel as if it were closing. 

“Oh I’m gonna fucking kill Roland!” She hisses. “Sera how are we looking over there!?” 

Sera’s shaky hands were previously attempting to saw an old thick braided rope, tied to the top of a refrigerator in the corner of what seemed to be a blown out cafeteria. The walls that surrounded it had crumbled and fallen down, opening up to the rest of the town similar to the outside area back home.   
“Sera!” Jenna shrieked, turning her head sharply to face her. “Oh fuck, come on!” Letting go of David, Jenna reaches into a holster attached to her upper thigh. David reaches out again, panicked, but Jenna slaps it away. “Give me a second.” 

“Sera, keep cutting the rope! I’ll take care of these!” To take on a group of zombies, no matter how small, alone was a dangerous task. David reaches to his own holster but Jenna scoffs. 

“You can’t see anything, there’s only two!” She tells him, cocking her gun and firing a few shots. There’s a wet scream, and the thump of bodies. Jenna releases a breath, and David does too. 

Her specialty was sharp shooting. She had a knack for aiming and almost never missing her target no matter the stress. In other physical terms she wasn’t as proficient, she didn’t have the heavy weight that David provided, but David didn’t have the immaculate shooting that Jenna provided. 

She moves from his side, leaving him to dance helplessly, forced to listen to a few shots and the moans and squeals of infected. It was too much for her to handle alone, he frets, and through the blur of his vision, he sees shapes moving around. Tears burn in his eyes, coming forth from whatever panic attack broke the second his feet left the ground, mixed with the burning, intrusive images of gore.

“Sera!” David yells, she doesn’t respond. His heart drops, he thrashes, desperate for the rope that cut into his leg to release him. His arms refuse to listen to him, numbing from the rush of blood. “Jenna!?” 

“Stop yelling!” She answers finally. “We’re fine, we’re fine. That was it.” Her voice is breathless, shaking.

There’s another crack of the rope, and it drops David to the ground. His hands take the brunt of the fall, he moans as he rolls over, trying to catch the breath knocked out of him after he hits the dirt. He feels breathless as the blood drains from his face back to the rest of him. Labored breaths keep him laying face first in the dirt, until Jenna, quick to his side, rolls him over and shoves the glasses back onto his face. 

“Oh what the fuck.” David splutters, coughing out dirt and spit. Jenna’s shaking hands wipes dirt and spit from his face, her expression unreadable, wiping her palms at her side. She keeps him from moving too quickly, keeping her hand firmly on his chest until his breathing slows, once he is deemed calm enough, she helps him sit up. His glasses are dusty and Jenna’s fingerprint is apparent on the lenses. He takes them off and wipes them on the corner of his shirt.

“Are you okay?” Her voice wavering, and she swallows hard to keep it steady. She reaches to touch his face, then his cheek before smoothing away his hair from his face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Are you okay? How many zombies? Sera?” 

Sera stands by Jenna’s side, her face is pink and her eyes are wide. Her knife trembles in her hand, still unsheathed and her free hand wipes at her face, he can’t tell if she was crying or not. “I’m okay.” She pipes in. 

“There were only two, like I said.” Jenna stands up, and then offers her hand to David. It’s a formality if anything.   
“Thanks. God! I’m going to kill Roland when I see him!” David rubs his face one more time, before standing. He takes his glasses off, wipes them on his shirt, and then readjusts them on his face.

“If you had kept screaming though it could have been worse.” Jenna’s voice is trembling, she tries to mask it with her feigned irritation, but her hand is continually reaching for some form of physical contact. She switched between smoothing back his hair, or fixing the collar of his shirt, wiping the dirt from his chest or even moving the straps on his backpack to touch his shoulder lightly. And though she was avoiding eye contact, he was almost certain they both would not be able to keep themselves together if they met eyes.  
“Sorry, sorry.” He breathes out. “Sera?” 

“Yes?” 

“Good work, kid.” He thanks her. He pats her on the head gently, and then pats her shoulder, prying the knife from her shaking hand. “Very brave of you, thank you for listening to Jenna.”

Sera hurls herself into his arms. Despite how small she was, the impact of her hug makes him grunt before he rests his hands on her shoulders. He looks to Jenna, mostly for help, but she looks away, training her vision onto anything else. By the way her hand twitched, he assumed she had been intending to do the same, but when Sera wasn’t looking. 

“We’re going to need to get moving.” He says. He attempts to pry Sera from around his middle, but she clings to him. “C’mon Sera, let go, it’s okay.” She shakes her head against his shirt, and sniffles.

“C’mon, you’re a big girl, we gotta keep moving. Just for a little longer, okay?” He pleads, finally able to pry the weeping girl from him. Her face is blotchy, and she sucks in each breath like it’s the last thing she could do. “Hey now, it’s alright.” 

She doesn’t say anything, just nods her head and wipes her face with her hands. Her bottom lip still trembles as they walk, her hand so tightly wrapped around David’s he was sure he would lose circulation at any point. He didn’t think that anything like that would have been so impacting to her, but then again, that was one of the moments that was the first time she must have faced that kind of adrenaline and fear.

David hadn’t been swept off his feet like that, or thrown into a situation he didn’t have any chance at controlling in a long time, it was a memory that he wasn’t even sure he had. There was no way someone as careful as he would have messed up like that. No, if anything it was more of a reason to try and be more careful, though his mind was displaced, plagued by the images he had seen earlier. If they hadn’t had Sera, he wasn’t sure how well it could have gone, even if they had gotten through the zombies, who knows. They would have been fine, he thinks, or tries to comfort himself. 

Walking through town at a slower pace, Jenna continues to turn back, looking over her shoulder at the two, trying to make sure they were alright, her face twisting in worry if he moves ever the slightly out of the normal.

“I’m fine, Angel, really.” He adds, “We’re fine.” He smiles, though it wasn’t enough to console her. A simple roll of the eyes and the shaking of her head. He was lucky enough to miss whatever she whispered under her breath.

As the sun begins to dip down, Jenna begins to lose her patience even further. Stopping occasionally to allow them to catch up she watches them with narrowed eyes and a foot that taps impatiently until they’re close enough for her to turn around and stomp off. 

“How is it, that we’ve been walking for hours, and yet we haven’t run into a single member. Are we sure we’re even in the right place?” David says. He didn’t want to admit it, but he too was beginning to lose his patience, and his will to keep walking. His left hand was still a life line for Sera, and he was beginning to wish he had it back, though he didn’t have the heart to try and pry it from her. 

“Maybe they’re hiding.” Jenna responds, her voice sharp. “I’m going to kick Roland’s ass when I see him.”

“Let’s not ruin anything, Jen, please.”

“It wouldn’t be very polite for unwelcome guests to make such threats.” A fourth voice, low, masculine adds. Stepping from the building on their right comes a man, head to toe clad in camo. His hair is silvery-blond, and cut short to his skull.

“Roland.” David breathes out.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah

“So, you broke into our town, set off my traps, and for god sake, you have one of the worst shirts I’ve ever seen.” Roland says, his voice light as he pours from an cloudy bottle of alcohol with the label faded to no recognition. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t just put one right between your four eyes.”

Sera shrinks against the old couch in the “office” room Roland leads them to. It's a small room, probably the old living room of a house that smells more of alcohol than it did of mildew. The walls are lined with various guns, and the shelves are heavy under the weight of probably hundreds of bottles ranging from full, to empty. His back is turned to his audience, pouring them each a shot. He returns with four small shot glasses, and sets them out on the table before them before taking his own seat.

“To your health.” Roland says, raising it in cheers before kicking back his shot.

A chorus of murmurs responds. Sera dips her tongue in before making a face and pushing it to Jenna, who also pushes both her and Sera’s shot to David. Now sitting with three shots of whatever overly potent alcohol Roland has served them, he feels the dark eyes of their trade partner on him. 

“To your health.” David says, grimacing as he works his way through each shot. The sound of the heavy glasses clinking against the dusty wooden table. Roland polished off his first, leaving David to struggle through three shots on his own, a grin on his face as he undoubtedly enjoyed the struggle.

Jenna pats his back after, her eyes still glued onto Roland, watching each of his movements closely, as if he were a rattlesnake with an indeterminable movement. It didn’t matter how close they were in trades, the couple both knew how dangerous of a game they were playing, especially in the hands of a town of people who don’t know them, all while smuggling an infected, but immune girl. 

Roland says nothing after, the silence that stretches between the group is unsettling. Sera seems focused on everything but the faces of the people around them in the room, looking between old pieces of wood and then weaponry that hangs above them in different thick cut straps of leather nailed into the walls and ceilings. Jenna is shaking her leg, but she is silent. Her hands are tightly folded over her chest as she leans back on the couch. David is leaning forward, his hands folded in his lap but his eyes downcast at the table in front of them.

They wait in silence.

“Well, why don’t we talk. I’m guessing you two,” Roland looks at Sera, “I’m sorry, you three didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries.”

“We need a car.” Jenna says flatly. 

“Jenna!” David exclaims, turning to his partner with wide eyes. 

“What!? He asked us.” She said, “We don’t have time to waste with this, we need a car, and you owe us for it.”

Clearly shocked, Roland impresses by keeping his face neutral. His eyes bore deep into David, who gulps and looks to the side, tugging at the collar of his shirt uncomfortably.

“I hear that correctly? David needs a car. No, both David and Jenna need a car.” His voice, smooth, was dripping with sarcasm, and irritation. 

This wasn’t like a usual trade deal, they had nothing to offer back. The original plan was to come in, wait a day or so, do anything to make sure that they were in some sort of good graces with Roland before making such a demand.

“What makes you think I have such a thing available, and what makes you think that I would lend it to you?”

The silence stretches back over the room. David wishes he were Sera, who had retreated so far into the old sofa, he was sure it had muffled the loud voices from the moments prior.

“Roland,” David starts, gently, “We weren’t going to ask so bluntly.” He sighs and takes his glasses off, setting them beside the shot glasses on the old coffee table. He rubs his eyes before looking up, face still in his hands. 

“We do need a car, we need to go somewhere--too far on foot.” 

They meet eyes, and Roland’s expression softens. “Well, I don’t have it entirely prepared, it wasn’t something I planned on having ready, especially not on such short notice.”

“How much time do you need, and what will it cost us?” Jenna asks, folding her arms over her chest, and then crossing her legs. She taps her index finger against her upper arm impatiently. David silently thanks whatever level of alcohol poisoning Roland has allowed himself to dip into that would let him be so easily swayed. 

“I need a few days, and instead of payment, well I’ll just need your help trying to piece it together, and getting one key component.”

“And that is…?” Jenna raises her eyebrow.

Roland leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll let you know later, only after I find a suitable model. Now, judging by the little one over there, half inside of my sofa, I’m guessing you need somewhere to rest.”

David looks over to Sera, who by all means has more or less fallen asleep. Her cheek was squished against his shoulder, and her eyes had fluttered shut. “You don’t mind?”

“Well, I do, this is supposed to be a private area, for the Lokapala only. However, I don’t mind helping out an old friend.” 

Jenna bristles and David puts a hand on her thigh. Roland grins, and chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Now Jenna, don’t tell me you still have some sort of grudge against me?”

“Thank you, Roland.” David interjects before Jenna can add anything further, “But we should get Sera to bed, it’s been a long day.”

“Sera, that’s her name?” Roland asks, “She yours?” 

Long after tucking Sera into one of the beds lent to them by Roland, Jenna and David long retired back into the office again. The house was across from the office, David was weary to leave her alone, but Roland promised that she would be fine. With the promise of alcohol, and conversation, there they sat, back into the old couch as more drinks were poured, and a complimentary cigarette carton was passed around, though neither of them took one. 

Jenna leans against David’s arm, she was exhausted, and in her half asleep state was still tightly clutching the glass in her hands, a half finished drink threatening to spill on his lap. 

“No, she’s not ours.” 

Roland sighed and leaned back, propping his boots up on the coffee table. “She doesn’t seem like the type to want kids.” He responds. 

David thanks the fact Jenna isn’t coherent enough to start a fight with him. Instead he just smooths back one of the curls that slipped from her bun. “Well, who could want kids, especially now, with everything.” 

Roland refills his cup, and then drinks from the bottle himself. “Well, who went and bittered you? That’s not the David I knew, you would have died to have a kid of your own.” 

He scowls, and downs the drink so that he doesn’t have to immediately respond. Instead it drums in his head for a moment. That part of him that had changed from being so naive, so wanting of a normal life and to have that blindness to ignore it in its entirety. 

“I grew up some there, Roland.” The glass clinks against the old wood table, and David leans back into the sofa. “I’ve seen things, done things, I don’t have time to entertain the idea.”  
Roland throws his head back and laughs. David scowls, feeling more and more irritated with their conversation. Now he was wishing that Jenna would stir, and say something, anything.  
“What’s so funny about that!” 

“When did you turn into such a cynical old man, she must be getting to you.” David couldn’t help but snicker himself, which in return let Roland laugh again.  
“Don’t tell me it’s just you out here, I won’t know what to do if I find out you’re all by yourself in this big town.”

Roland waves his hand, then rises from his chair, returning his dark liquor back to the shelf in the back of the room. “Concerned, are we?” He turns, and leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “The Lokapala isn’t just me and a couple stragglers anymore, David, we’re a town.”

Wide eyes, he nods to allow for Roland to continue. 

“There’s about…” He pauses, counting on his fingers for a moment, then trailing off, mouthing to himself until he gets to the number he needed. “There’s about fifty of us now, and growing. We have no electricity, and I’d say supplies are getting lower and lower with every passing day, but we’re surviving.”

“I should have let someone else take care of you while we were out.” David sighs. 

Roland shrugs his shoulders. “Well, everyone’s going to kill themselves over trying to get on my team. I’m not worried.” He cracks a grin. “I pay well. Everyone just stayed out of your hair because of that nightmare next to you.”

“Oh please, she’s not that terrifying.”

“Only you would say something along those lines.” Roland shrugged. David bites his tongue, though he would easily put a bullet between the eyes of anyone who would disrespect Jenna, and had prior to these moments, it’s not the best idea to take someone on in their own domain. “Get that look off your face, I’m teasing.”  
David’s shoulders relax. 

“You never did tell me what all of this is about. The girl, the car--I don’t just lend things to anyone, and I should be more suspicious, lending to an ex-lover.”

“We need to get out west, to Gale.”

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in eons.” Roland’s hand reaches back for the alcohol bottle, gripping it by the neck as he pops the cork off. An appropriate reaction, David thinks to himself. He almost considers a refill, but judging by the gentle tingle in his legs, he better hold off. It was stupid to get drunk, even stupider to get drunk in an environment you’re not entirely welcome in.

“I know.” David sighs and then rubs his face. “It’s a long story, but we owe someone, and well…” He yawns, and then rubs his eyes until; he sees stars. “It’s a commitment we made to that little girl. I’m not sure there’s a soul left who will protect her.”

Roland says nothing, just takes a swig from the glass bottle before setting it back on the counter. “Sounds like you need rest. You can crash in the same room we set your girl up in. Tight squeeze, but we don’t often have to prepare for guests.”

David nods, and nudges Jenna awake, who murmurs something along the lines of “Carry me.” and he obliges. Her arms loosely around his neck, her face resting into the collar of his shirt as Roland leads them back to the old house. 

“We’ll be safe?” He asks, hesitating outside of the door. 

“I’m just across the street. This is an abandoned area, the real populated areas of town are about a mile away. We’ll go there tomorrow, for now, just stay put. I’ll get you in the morning.” 

David’s hand lingers over the door knob, staring into Roland’s face. 

“David, just get some rest.”

With that, he turns away, walking back across the street. He turns, waves once, and then disappears into the building. David sighs, adjusting Jenna’s weight, which stirs her, only for a minute to say something incomprehensible against his shirt. 

“I know, Jen.” He says softly. He looks up to the sky, the moon is bright, and the stars around it are vast, Sera’s words linger in his mind. That desire she had to pray to God, a concept and idea that had been so long forgotten with years of failed prayers and repenting that did nothing, not even soothe the broken souls around him.

Religion was such a foreign concept to him, even thinking about it felt wrong, like he was trespassing in someone else’s territory, a world that was not designed for him. With one final sigh, and a goodnight whispered to the moon up above, David opened the door to the old house.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no beta boohoo im sick of editing

The sun in his face wakes him in the morning from his makeshift bed on the floor, the light pouring from the front facing window burns his eyes until he rises. With an attempt to stretch, his body protests, an aching core and strained muscles scream out with each movement. Being hurled around in his earlier years was fine, most of the time it took less than an hour to bounce back, even moments depending on his adrenaline--and the fact he was still spry. Now, he felt as if he should be in bed for the next week, or even month, just until the inevitable dark bruises faded from his ankle. His rolled up pant leg shows the ring of dark bruising, various purples and greens that he had grown numb to over the years.  
Despite the various pain acquired from being thrown around like a ragdoll, nothing was more offensive than sleeping on the old wooden floor of the house. Of course, he had offered, allowing for both Sera and Jenna to sleep in the bed, and he had been too tired to hunt for a couch that didn’t have a rotting mildew scent. It had been hard enough to enter the house, guided only by the moonlight. He stumbled a few times on what might have been the rug, or the corner of the coffee table, each time he jostled Jenna, she said something low under her breath, her speech slurred through her exhausted state. 

Now in the morning light he could see the extent of the room. He reached for his glasses, folded on the floor beside them and pushed them onto his face. The bed, in the corner of the room was stripped of its bed sheets, the bare, now brown, mattress covered with the sleeping bodies and one old quilt, fraying in the corners. The curtains fluttered from the partially open window, each torn strand of fabric swaying its own way, tangling. The walls are a deep maroon, with little flowers that decorate it in a dizzying pattern. Corners of the wall paper have begun to roll up like peeled bark. The wall underneath is yellow, with what looked like the beginnings of mold at the bottom. 

Gingerly, David puts pressure on his leg, it’s enough to make him wince, but it’s not the worst pain he’s felt. He rises up, slowly, avoiding any noises that may or may not stir the two sleeping heavily in the bed. David wasn’t even sure either of them had moved from the spots he saw them in last night, not that he blamed them. Even with the fatigue, he was still an early riser. Stepping lightly, he slips through the door to the bedroom and into the old living room. He was right about one thing, the rug and the coffee table were directly in the way. But a new obstacle lay in that room now, none other than Roland, who sat, leaned back in an old recliner, sipping from a flask. 

“Good morning,” He greets, his voice low, “sleep well?” 

“Good morning.” David returns, blinking tiredly as he sits down on the couch diagonal to him. “How long have you been here?”

“About an hour or so."

“Did you watch us sleep or something?” 

Roland shakes his head, then gestures to the window behind David’s head. “Watched the sun rise, this window has a good view of it.” He nods in response, taking the glasses from his face to clean them on the corner of his shirt. “This is typically my room when I’m working; or preparing to meet you for a drop.” 

“I’m assuming you need something, to greet us this early in the morning.” 

“That was a part of our original plan, right?”

“That would be correct.” David responds halfheartedly. Roland nods, then rises from his chair, brushing himself off, and offering David the flask he had been drinking from earlier. 

“It’s just water.” He reassured, after David gave him a quizzical look. 

“When are we leaving?” His question was phrased to find out more details about it, solely so he could see whether or not he had to wake up Jenna immediately, or if he could spare her a few minutes. Her morning attitude was least to say, undesirable, she could be a real pain in the ass. 

“I’ll leave you with your girls, not too long, we need to get situated and on the move no later than about noon.” With that, Roland leaves, shutting the door gently behind him.

David decides that waking Sera will be his safest bet. If he can get her up and situated, the last thing he’ll have to worry about is getting Jenna up, who won’t be able to bark at Sera for being unprepared to move out. His hand lingers on the door knob, hesitating to let himself in and begin the process he followed every morning, which was risking getting hit by a pillow and facing the occasional insult that was thrown out, just because she was cranky. 

He reaches over Jenna gently, and shakes Sera’s shoulder till her big blue eyes flutter open. She sits up, and yawns loudly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. David fights his own urge to yawn moments later. 

“Good morning, David!” She greets, assisted by David as she hops over Jenna’s sleeping figure.  
Not even a moment later, Jenna has rolled into Sera’s spot, stretched out comfortably. “Good morning, Sera.” David says, scoffing at his partner as he turns back to Sera. “Sleep well?”

She nods her head, and then stretches herself, rubbing her face with her hands and patting her cheeks until they’re flushed and her face is bright. 

He lets Sera sit with him on the floor of the room. The contents of his backpack, as well as Jenna’s, are emptied out onto the middle of the floor and the process of taking inventory of their stock begins. The inventory is taken mentally, David nodding to himself and separating between the weapons and other pieces to hold separately between each pack. Since his bag was primarily storage: Sera’s folded windbreaker, his own heavier jacket, something of Jenna’s he distinguished between a shirt or a skirt, and then a few of the dwindling provisions that were left in the pack from days before are all that he’ll hold onto. Besides the various melee weapons he keeps tied to the back for easy access. His own gun and personal shiv are kept on his person with the holsters he has on his belt. 

Jenna’s backpack contained weapons, half empty cartons of bullets that were counted and used sparingly if they could help it. Her backpack contained the essentials for fighting, like her own statue, the pack was small, and light. Jenna kept a few different pistols on hand, not fond of any larger weapon that would make it more difficult to keep her incognito. Shotguns or rifles were things that David would dabble in, their kickback didn’t take as much of a toll on him comparatively.  
“Do you think Roland will feed us?” Sera asks, eyeing the pack of thin crackers David returns to the bag. 

Hungry himself, David opens the pack and offers Sera one or two, reminding her that pacing themselves is important. 

“I’m sure he will, it might not be like the rations at home—“ His heart aches at the mention, “but it will be something.” 

“Let’s save some for Jenna, I’m sure she’s hungry too.” Sera’s voice has perked up after the few crackers she had been allowed. Even David feels the relief of having something in his system, though he fights all urges to try and not gorge the entire pack here with Sera. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I didn’t.” 

They sit in silence for a bit longer, David leaning back on his palms and staring at the ceiling. The old popcorn texture of the ceiling had dipped some, years of wanted damage left unattended created the mushrooming in some of the rooms. More notably the “bedroom” . He wonders if it leaks when it rains, though he’s sure it does. Many homes were left to become waterlogged, leaking zones that let the dripping water splash against the ground like a metronome. The rug in the room, torn and dusty, had the faint scent of rot, something that reminded him of the mattress he once had. 

It was stupid to grow so attached to things, especially now, where unwillingly minimalism had become one of the best ways to live, and to travel. The ever growing movement of quarantine zones left a bitter taste in your mouth, anytime you felt as if you could be happy in an area, grow comfortable and learn the streets and routines well enough--you would be displaced. Whatever you kept strapped to your back was the extent of your belongings, he was sure eventually his neighbors would pry open their old chipping front door with equally rusty crow brows, and loot it. 

His stomach turned at the thought of the old yellow quilt that was once folded at the edge of their bed. He tries to push the thought from his mind, there was no time to be lamenting for lost items. With the reward from Cuvier at this point he was sure he could get that blanket back, maybe even something better. In order to get that reward, he had to wake Jenna, and meet Roland. 

Waking Jenna was a task, it took thick skin and dedication to even get a response out of her that wasn’t laced with irritation or insults. A task David had grown accustomed to, gently shaking her shoulder first, then saying her name. He cycles through his various nicknames for her, each time prodding her shoulder or smoothing her hair back from his face until a very audible, and ill-intention insult was thrown at him. 

“Come on, Angel,” David sighs, sitting at the edge of the bed, resting his hand on her shoulder, “We need to get moving, we have Roland waiting for us, and we could be losing daylight.”

Jenna groans, but rolls onto her back, eyes still shut tightly as she pushes the hair from her face. Progress. “Roland can just have you, let me sleep more.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jenna, just get up.”

It takes more persistent prodding, tapping her nose occasionally, doing small acts till she is so annoyed that she throws herself out of bed with the intention smack at him. Of course, rising so quickly her balance is skewed, and she more or less just throws her body weight at him. 

“Falling for me?” 

“Don’t start.” Jenna hissed. David pats her cheek, then gestures to the open pack of crackers on the floor.

She takes no time to throw herself down on the floor beside Sera, though she didn’t look at her, instead focusing her energy on gathering the remaining few crackers in her hands.  
“So,” Jenna begins, talking with her mouth full, “What’s the plan of action today?”

David shrugs, taking his glasses off to clean at the edge of his shirt while he pondered the right response. It was obvious neither of them were entirely positive what the mission would entail. It could be anything from scavenging the entire town, or even turning around to loot their quarantine zone for information. 

“I take your silence as an answer.” She groans, crumpling the package after she finishes it, and tosses it aside in the corner of the room. 

Sera looks like she was going to interject, but Jenna catches her before she can say anything by reminding her the entire world was a dump, and that it didn’t matter.

“Have you done inventory already?” Jenna asks, reaching for her backpack and beginning to strap it on, she then gestures to Sera, “Come on, get up, get ready.”

Scrambling to her feet, Sera grabs her own backpack. “Yeah, I did. Not too bad on some supplies, the Karma Society members had a bit on them, but not enough.”

Jenna nods, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to ask Roland for a bit then.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it, considering we are about to do another run for him. If not, he can add it to the tab for later.”

Jenna stares at him after he says that. Her expression is taut, and without a doubt he’s sure she has something to share, an opinion, or a fear, regardless he would likely hear it when she finishes waking up, and she’s ready to make a scene.

Exiting the house, David feels the regret of wearing one of the thin jackets he kept in his bag. The morning had been cool, it was comfortable enough to slip on over his shirt to keep him comfortable, but now the humidity was choking, making him feel as if he were swimming in water as they walked the short distance to the office across the way.

David knocks on the door in a pattern they used to signal during drops. It was instinctual, but regardless he received the ending half of the rhythm. Satisfied, he regroups with Jenna and Sera. 

Jenna reaches for his hand, squeezing it twice once their fingers intertwine. Despite her ever haughty morning behavior, her morning mugginess wore off and her attitude lightened. Whether or not it would be soiled when Roland joined them was another issue to tackle. They had never really spent more than a half hour or so with the man, occasionally they would talk at drop offs, mostly to exchange details on when the next meeting or location point would be, or exchanged bits of pleasantries or information out of politeness, though it often meant nothing to them in a business sense.

He doubted she was green-eyed. David returns the squeeze, twice for “I love you”, a silent exchange they had developed over years of risky business, one where words couldn’t be exchanged. She sighs, relieved, or assured, he can’t tell. Her attitude shifts entirely when the front door of the office opens, and Roland comes strolling out.

His left hand is in the pocket of his pants, and his camouflage jacket is tied around his waist, the sleeves fluttering behind him. Unsurprisingly, he carries a flask in his right hand, the top screwed off and clicking against the side of the metal container. David crinkles his nose, but offers no comment toward the habit. 

“Are you ready? It’s about a thirty minute walk.” Roland says, beginning to trek ahead, glancing over his shoulder, expectantly. 

“Don’t need a bag?” David asks, cocking his eyebrow as they slowly caught up to the man’s pace.

Roland shakes his head, and leans back as he takes a swig from his flask. “I keep most things in the office, some things in the town, and most in that house you stayed in. It’s mine.” He adds. 

They walk in silence afterward. The decay and grunge becomes less and less frequent as they walk. Areas of the sidewalk were cleaned up, looking less littered in weeds and other debris, which was instead piled along the side, serving as a makeshift fence. The middle of the road had the fading lines of the lane indicators, the bright yellow still slightly visible against the dark concrete. The road itself was broken up, no longer in a straight path, instead it was more… crooked, almost as if it were carved the way a river was. The sides of the road were full of crumbled rock, or the occasional piece of brick that might have been carried by weathering or animals. 

“You’re all clean, I’m assuming.” Roland states, it had the hindrance of a question, but again, his tone was stern, heavier than he had heard all day. Turning to face them, his face was equally as serious, the corners of his mouth down turned and his eyes boring directly into David’s. 

If he had made any face, any sign of shock or discomfort at that announcement it would have been a game over. A bite on Sera’s forearm, that twinkled in the daylight whenever her jacket was off, was a dead give away. Whether or not he would be able to convince Roland was a task he wasn’t exactly equipped to do. It was something he didn’t want to do. It was something that had to be proven, and to convince Jenna, which he was sure they hadn’t yet, was something that was hard enough to deal with. He didn’t need the addition of Roland, who would no doubt aim a gun directly at them until there was substantial proof. 

Jenna interjects before David can say anything, “Of course we’re clean!” She snaps, taking a step forward, forcing Roland’s eye contact to break from David, and switch to her.  
His face doesn’t give. “It’s a safety precaution, Angel.” His voice is cool enough to extinguish the flames that roared from Jenna. “Even a professional can screw up, and I have people to care for.”

Silence stretches over them again, Roland resumes walking, keeping a distance of a few feet between them. The silence, broken by the occasional melody whistled from the birds who hid themselves in the trees, was odd. David had grown used to, and almost fond, of the multitudes of questions Sera would use in an attempt to chip into the lives of the people who held hers. Though he believes that Roland wouldn’t mind to entertain Sera, he probably offered more interesting stories to help cultivate her understanding of the world, he knew she was probably more afraid to voice anything right now, reading the room well. 

The entire walk had been soiled by the sudden shift in mood that went from understanding it was tense, to being entirely aware that it was intense. That they were walking on such a thing line David wasn’t sure that they would be able to keep on it. Considering that Jenna and Roland had the potential to butt heads, though they kept it civil, he worried that the rest of the Lokapala would be equally as reserved, or patient. Roland knew how to keep his mouth shut, he knew when the proper time was to speak an opinion, Jenna however, did not. Plenty of bullets had whizzed past her because she had said the right thing, just at the wrong time. 

As far as the number of people in the Lokapala, he probably knew about three--and one of them was Roland. The other two, Adil Khoury and Greg Lupa, were men that he had worked with once or twice doing a few missions here and there, transporting goods between the different zones and the beginning members of the faction that came to be the Lokapala. 

David had been working with Roland for several years now. It was a stable job with a promising income that made it one of the most sought after positions. He thanks their past involvement for being one of the things that had most likely secured him that job, something to scratch his back and leave them with no debt to one another. Regardless, he was thankful.

David had cycled through various partners, most people who would eventually drop because of the frequency of missions and the ever apparent high risk. It wasn’t a short journey, it could take a week to complete if you were dealing in merchandise that couldn’t easily be hidden in a backpack. The only person resilient, or maybe annoyingly determined, was Jenna Angel herself, who had done more than one or more missions partnered with David before it became clear that neither of them were going to give up the position. 

She was a wonderful partner when she was in a pleasant mood, though most of the time she had no issue announcing her opinions, even ones toward Roland that were shared without any respect. Difficult, but talented, Jenna was one of the people you had to learn and study to get used to. Her exterior may be insufferable, and her words may seem edged, but more often than not she was just putting up a front, there were things to learn and do that kept them together this long. Thankfully, Jenna kept most of her louder opinions between the two of them, ensuring the job would stay with them.

Not that they couldn’t find decent work without Roland. Plenty of jobs were respectable, there were low, risk low reward black market work that could keep you afloat, but there were always the shadows that lingered around corners in the form of slinky dealers. Harley was one of them, a dime a dozen piece of human rot that was insufferable to work with, but had a high reward if you were smart enough to get him to pay up. More often than not, people were burned, including them.

The tinkering of a glass draws David from his thoughts. A glass bottle rolls across the concrete, passing between Sera and Jenna as they kick it back and forth. When it moved from her reach, Sera would rush ahead a little, and nudge it back toward Jenna, only for the process to repeat over and over until Sera caught on. Jenna needed something to do to keep herself at bay, probably fuming inside but taking out her frustration on the unsuspecting green glass. Jenna kept herself focused anywhere but David, refusing to meet his eyes anytime he turned her way. Her shoulders were squared and her mouth was set in a firm line, and the force behind each kick of the bottle sent Sera further and further each time. 

“Not too much longer now.” Roland says, looking back at them, sipping from his flask. David is sure it isn’t water, probably one of the alcohols that had been lined up behind him in the office. He isn’t sure how Roland could manage to walk around in this heat, considering just how dehydrated he might be.

The bustling of the lived in town was becoming more and more apparent as they made their way. Buildings, though falling apart, were in better shape with the vegetation that grew along the sides scraped away from as high as they could reach. There was less trash, areas that had been cleaned of weeds or had buildings showing off their exterior, no longer masked by growing vines. This is where Roland decides they’ll wait. 

“I’ll be back, or Greg will fetch you. Wait here.” He instructs. Not waiting to hear an answer, his hands are in his pockets and his pace quickens. He whistles a melody that’s carried through the breeze until it fades entirely. 

A sigh of relief is shared the second Roland fades into the horizon line. David releases the tension he didn’t even know he had been carrying in his jaw as Jenna allowed her posture to return to normal. Sera burst like a dam with the questions she must have been conjuring up during that brief period of silence. Her energy reminded him of an excited puppy, basically bouncing around as she continued passing the bottle back and forth with herself.

“You said there was a kid my age, right? Oh! Also, how many people did Roland say there were here? Do you think they have any dogs, or cats, or--”

David eventually tunes her out, her questions were so rapid fire he wasn’t entirely sure that she intended for them to answer it, or if it was just a way for her to deflate. Jenna watches her silently, nodding her head or shrugging her shoulders along with the questions. Well, one of them had to acknowledge it, even if they weren’t listening.

“Will we be turned away?” Jenna interrupts, silencing one of Sera’s many questions by putting her hand up to signal for her to stop. 

He wanted to be able to assure her that there would be no problems. He truly did, but even his own doubts were rising. Jenna stares at him, expectantly, with the ever deflating Sera behind her. The truth is he didn’t know, he wasn’t sure, there was no answer that could be provided to calm anyone’s nerves, not even his own. He stutters for a moment, and sighs and takes his glasses off, wiping them on the corner of his shirt. 

“You can’t just take your glasses off whenever you don’t like something, David.” Jenna huffs. 

“Why wouldn’t they let us in? We’re clean and,” Sera looks around, and then lowers her voice to a whisper, “I’m immune.”

Jenna looks at her as if she had been slapped, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped. “This isn’t about whether or not we’re clean. They could very well just turn us away because they lack the surprise or the compassion to help us.” 

“Now, I doubt Roland would take us this far just to turn around and deny helping us. Remember, we’ve worked with them for years, we have a connection and relationship with them.”

“Just because you’ve slept with Roland doesn’t mean he’ll help us.” Jenna says with a snort. Heat rushes to David’s face, he stands, lost for words.  
“Jenna!” He eventually musters, pinching the bridge of his nose until there were nail marks left, bright and red along the side.

“What does sharing a bed have to do with this--”

“Nothing.” David shoots, narrowing his eyes at Jenna, who turned away. “Sera, can you go off to the side, I need to speak with Jenna.”

“We have nothing to say to one another right now.” Jenna replies coolly.

Hesitation births silence that feels like eternity until Sera chooses to heed David’s warning. Looking nervously between them, she backs up and then skirts off to the front of an old building, peering through the broken glass into the dusty interior.

David sighs, rubbing his hands over his face the second they’re alone. He did wish his glasses were off again, it would be hard enough to get through this conversation without another argument. “What would possess you to be starting such nonsense with me, Angel, really?” He asked, exasperated.

“Do you deny the truth behind my words?” Her voice is still cool, picking at a loose thread on her shirt.

“Angel.” David pleads.

“There is no reason for him to help us--to help me, or her.” Jenna gestures to herself, then to Sera. David looks to Sera who has decided to pick up little stones and throw them at the ground. David felt bad, she was so desperately acting as if she were doing something instead of obviously straining her ears to catch the bits of conversation as she eavesdropped.

David lowers his voice, “Don’t assume he’s helping me out from my past. You know that’s not the reason, he respects me, and you for all that matters.” Jenna scoffs, but doesn’t interrupt him. 

“Fine.” A small victory, if anything, but at least the conversation would drop.

“And also, that little girl might be our vantage point, I mean,” He assures, “If he’s got more people here, maybe even a few kids around, he understands the need to protect them. If Roland doesn’t, well, Lupa has a kid, he’ll understand it for sure.”

As if beckoned by the mention of his name, a tall man appeared. His skin was a deep brown and his hair was long, worn in braids that fell halfway down his back, in the sunlight, glints of red are reflected in his dark hair. Even without saying anything, his presence is strong. It cuts their conversation short before Jenna can respond, even startling them enough to straighten their postures, and sending Sera to run and hide behind David at the introduction of another stranger.

Lupa lifts his hand in greeting, “Ah, so what Roland said was true. You have a little girl with you.” Lupa says, nodding to himself. He crosses his arms and then closes his eyes thoughtfully. He nods to himself one more time and then opens his eyes, his dark brown eyes locking onto David. “Come with me.” 

Lupa walks ahead of them, he looks over his shoulder often, checking in on Sera more so than he was David or Jenna. He pays them no attention, though it’s not out of cruelty, they were adults, they would be more used to this than anyone else. There was a particular fondness that showed in his expressions when he made sure Sera was keeping up, even pausing momentarily during his long strides to give them a second to catch up. 

Sera walks on her tiptoes, hopping around like a little bird as she took in the sights. Less of the windows of the shops were broken, the area looked brighter, and the green foliage at its peak in the height of summer allowed for a canopy above, gifted by the ever massive oak trees. The signs of life are more and more apparent as they walk. There were less scattered trash cans, instead they were kept in neat roads along the side of a building. With the debris lessened, various shapes poking from over the brim of trash cans, you could tell it was a managed area. Compared to the slums at home where the trash ran free, and along corners were the eyes of beady strangers who watched your every move carefully, waiting for a telltale sign of twitching muscle under the skin. 

David envies her freedom, her ability to not be as stressed about this matter, though it would be best for now if she could just worry about being a kid--not about the fact one slip up here, announcing her immunity, could get a bullet between her innocent eyes. They were walking into a game, it seemed, with this many people allowing for what they know to be complete strangers was what felt like a death trap. One wrong move, just one, even the slip of Sera’s jacket sleeve that covered the twinkling crystals that poked through her skin could get them all shot without hesitation. 

Beside him, stiff as a soldier, Jenna keeps her hands close to her side, fists clenched and her jaw locked firmly. She looked as if she were marching toward her death, which David sympathized with, though he was still feeling the venom of irritation with her from earlier. He tries not to take it too personally, but the gall that she had in order to throw a years, no, almost decades old relationship back in his face was the signs there was something burning deep inside of her, discomfort or whatever, that was making her act out. 

Jenna and David had been together for at least seven years. They met, and worked together, soon after and had been together ever since. Dating was different, and he was positive that if he even called Jenna his “girlfriend” she would knock him out for such a silly word. She was fine with being called his partner, that’s what they were anyway. Business partners, romantic partners, but girlfriend just felt plain dumb to her. A word that was left to the ages, she told him after threatening to smother him with a pillow when he even suggested that concept. It’s why he felt confident that he wouldn’t have to pull her to the side to remind her that they would need to talk about this later. She knew they did, it was why she would keep her hand so far away from him, especially when they were both feeling the anxiety of being unable to touch, and keep one another close. 

As the town becomes more vibrant, they’re greeted by Roland, who stands with his hands in his pocket, and his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “Ah, there they are.” 

He and Lupa shake hands, Lupa says something, and Roland nods, gesturing to a building on their right that he soon disappears into. Turning back, Roland smiles. It lacks warmth, maybe it was something to settle them, the apparent awkwardness radiating off of them like the heat. 

“Now, before we get to business, why don’t you take some time to regroup and discuss your own plans and gather resources.” Roland gestures to another building, a small house with white paneling along the side. There were some areas that had been chipped away, but more distressingly was the graffiti along it, something that started with an S, or so, and became more incoherent from fading as it made its way toward the front door, painted black. 

There were two sets of concrete stairs leading up to the porch. One side was fine, but the other set was dilapidated, chunks of concrete missing from the top step, and the entire middle section missing; replaced by various wildflowers that twisted around. The inside of the house is in a cleaner state, there’s more light inside of it compared to where they spent the night. The large windows lined along the left wall are dusty, tinged with brown, and the other side of the room is wall to wall full of bookshelves, though mostly empty, there were books still snugly pressed against one another. 

Roland leads them further into the house, a back room, there was no furniture in sight in the other rooms that David caught a glance of. The halls were covered with peeling wallpaper, shyly showing off the drywall underneath, water stained and molded in areas. 

“Our variation of a stockpile.” Roland presents, opening a door into the only room that seemed to have furniture beside the main living room. Along all of the walls is either a table or desk and above it are old shelves, some look as if they were added later, some look to be the original, though all of them were stuffed to capacity with bottles, or old cardboard boxes for ammo or other supplies. 

“You’re welcome to whatever, just let either Greg or I know so we can take note, and ask for it back later of course.”

“We’d rather repair some of our own weapons, if you don’t mind.” David says, swinging his backpack from his shoulders and onto a table where Jenna had pushed aside the majority of the clutter to claim a space for them.

“Suit yourself.” 

Once Roland leaves, Jenna takes to trying some of the different guns around the room, guns that hang from hooks on the wall, various different hand held weapons, some broken, some laying deconstructed. She holds them, studies them, even cocks a few of them though she puts each one back afterward. David knows she would be less likely to part from her revolver or the few pistols she kept in the back in case. There was no reason to try and train herself on something new, not when they were away from military medical care. If the backfire of the weapon dislocated something, or bruised something--they could be stalled for weeks, or months. 

“This reminds me of Harley.” Jenna announces, rummaging through a few of the drawers around for the proper tools to begin to strip her gun. 

David pauses, a name that had been unspoken over the past few days, the image of Harley flashed through his mind. Broken, bloodied, with a bullet lodged between his eyes. Probably one of their more rash decisions, it could have been avoided, probably if they hadn’t been shot at so many times prior.

“How so?” He asks, setting his own backpack down beside Sera, who sat on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, staring straight ahead with a rather unhappy look on her face. 

“Storeroom, all these guns, reminds me of the merchandise we lost.” Jenna says with a shrug, dragging a rag out from her bag to get to slowly cleaning away any dirt and grime that may have gathered since yesterday. 

David doesn’t say anything in response, but sits down beside Sera. He would get to cleaning his own gun once Jenna was through with her own meticulous work. Sera leans against David’s upper arm slowly, testing the waters before resting her cheek against his arm. 

“Do you think Harley would have taken this mission, if the circumstances hadn’t been changed, and he was chosen the way Madame Margot had intended.” 

Now there was something that David hadn’t imagined. That coward would have been about as helpful in the mission as having no one lead Sera. He doubts Harley would have even taken it, it was more likely he would dump it off on someone, or find someone who would do it for even less of a reward. That’s probably what Cuvier had intended to do, find someone with more muscle to accompany them both. 

“Madame was supposed to come with us.” Sera pipes up from David’s side. 

Jenna doesn’t attempt to hide the look on her face, nor the snort of disbelief and shake of her head before she turns back to her gun. 

“Surely you’re kidding.”

“Hey! That’s not fair, she basically raised me!” Prying herself from David’s side, Sera scrambles to her feet to stand up to Jenna, clenching her little hands into fists and stomping her foot. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to do it if she could have!”

“I wouldn’t have done it if she could have.” She responded coolly, turning to face Sera with a hand rested on her hip. She opens her mouth to continue what could be another dismissive statement before David interjected. 

“That’s enough.” He snaps, “Jenna, finish your gun, I still need to do mine. Sera, Jenna didn’t mean any harm like that, we have nothing against Cuvier.” David assures, patting her shoulder when she returns to his side, her face red and tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. 

She takes in a shaky breath, and wipes at her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. “She’s not that bad, really.” 

David keeps his hand rested on her shoulder, nodding his head along with her sympathetically. Though he did not agree, even in the slightest that Cuvier was anything but a pain in his side, but for her sake, and the fact he’d rather not deal with her crying, he agrees.

Jenna continues to work in silence, and by the time she’s finished David has lost the enthusiasm to even work on his, but he has to. There were no promises that he would even hit the requirements during the mission that would result in his shotgun to desperately be cleaned, he wasn’t sure there was enough ammo to hit that, but better safe than sorry it seemed.

“Y’know,” David starts, attracting both Jenna and Sera’s attention, “This mission won’t end like that one.” He’s referring to Harley, Jenna scoffs, he chooses to ignore her before continuing, “We have worked with Roland before, he’s not going to betray us, it’s not going to go that direction.”

The moment David’s gun was finished was the same moment Roland returned to the room. His shirt was changed and the stubble around his face was less. He leaned against the door frame and jerked his head to the side to let them know their time was up, and that it was time to head out. Sera scrambles to her feet, grabbing her backpack from the floor and sliding it on. Sera chooses to actively stand away from Jenna, more toward David, as per usual, but the added distance was a sign that Sera was still bothered. 

“We can come back later,” Roland says as they leave the house. “For now, we need to speak with Greg, alone.” He turns to face Sera, and then kneels down to reach her level. “Greg’s got a kid, about your age I’m guessing. Why don’t I introduce you so the adults can talk?”

Her face has the same relief, and excitement, as seeing that one cool cousin at a family gathering. Finally, a chance for her to talk to someone who didn’t either scorn her existence, or struggle to keep the patience to talk to her. David doesn’t know how excited Fred may be, whether or not there were other people around who could talk to him with the same capacity as another twelve year old could, but he hopes that they have the same excitement to hit it off without worry of scrutiny. 

They stand off on the side lines like parents dropping their child off for the first day of school. Watching Roland introduce Sera to Fred, David feels the odd sense of worry in leaving her to be alone. It did feel like that first day of school, watching your child rush from the car to run into the building, turning around once to show a gap toothed smile before disappearing from sight, leaving you with that odd little hole in your heart. 

Sera does just that, and runs off to the side lines, her face bright. “Fred and I are going to play in the store across from the building Roland says you’re going to!” 

“Alright, well, be safe, alright?” David says awkwardly, not entirely sure what else there was to say. They weren’t in danger, there was no way that anything could happen, not to Greg’s kid, and certainly not to Sera.

Sera nods, lingering by them for a second as if she was expecting something. The brief moment of awkwardness fades as Sera turns on her heels, and rushes off jumping over the cracks in the concrete and grabbing Fred’s hand excitedly to drag him off to a building. From the looks of it, it was a toy store, or something that was designed to be family friendly. The outside is unsuspecting, blending into the exterior of the town easily, it was the inside that separated it from the rest. Through the broken windows they had a clear sight of a room decorated with colorful block shelves, empty, and different colored walls with pictures hanging crooked all around. 

“Fred is a good kid,” Roland assures them as he notices David’s hesitation to enter the apartment complex, looking over his shoulder anytime there was laughter, or any noise that could be confused as a scream--or hurt if they were panicked enough. “Mature, well mannered.” 

Jenna says nothing, but the way she hesitated, and had rigid movements that seemed to be to keep her from turning around, fighting the instinct to rush back at any noise. It was one of the moments David released they hadn’t been separated from Sera’s side since they met her, she had served as a shadow. 

“You worry about her like she’s your own, you know.” Roland says, holding the door open to the apartment building. “They’ll be fine, there are eyes everywhere.” 

The brick exterior was still deep colored, ivy that had been scraped down from the sides as high as they could reach laid on the ground around it. The windows were old and dusty, tinged with a slight brown color. Roland holds the door open for them as they scoot inside the main lobby. There was no furniture in sight, the old wood floors were cleared of dust, evident by the broom that leaned against the peeling wallpaper. It showed off the drywall underneath, water stained and molded in areas. The room itself didn’t smell as bad, he thanked the opened windows solely by missing panes of glass or large shattered portions that had been swept into a pile in the back where it was dark, unable to be brightened by the sun. 

They go up a flight of stairs behind a creaking door. The stairway is warm, and each footsteps echoes throughout the halls. The concrete is stained. The first floor of apartments are equally as destroyed as the halls below. The doors are missing from their frames, piles of leaves that have very well molded into the walls creates a dark, grungy molding along the sides of the walls. 

David peers into each room, though trying to keep up with Roland. It reminds him of the open duplexes back at home. There are some mattresses either directly on the floor or held up with old bed frames. The metal is chipped, showing the under layers of rust as the sunlight streams through the boarded windows highlighting the specks of dust that float in the air, enamored by the light. ascending the stairs to the second floor, which was far more sinister in feeling. The corridor was darker, most of the doors still intact, closed, or boarded up. The end of the hall, instead of having a door, had a blocked off entrance. Pieces of furniture turned over on its side to block it off. Different mounds of what looked to be dirt, or weeds, or even tree branches lined it. It was unnerving, considering this area had been populated for a while. Though, a small faction of 50 people didn’t entirely need a full apartment complex level. They were fine with one floor, maybe even an old house to fit a few more people. 

At the end of the hall is one of the only rooms with a door. The door squeals as it opens, and it mirrors the first office of Roland’s that they visited. Rows of dark shelves that lined the back walls contain a mix of alcohol bottles. When the door opens, there are more people waiting inside than David had expected. Of course he had expected to see Greg, there was no doubt that he would be there, basically serving as one of the equal leaders in the Lokapala. There were one or two other men, standing in the back, not exactly sinister, but for some reason it had the feeling of an execution, he felt like there would be a gun to his back anymore, though he thinks its added from Jenna’s overall paranoia, that the tensing woman beside him was only making it worse as the color drained from her face as Roland shut the door behind them.


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi

Gale paces in the kitchen, his finger curled under his chin as if he were thinking as he walks back and forth. The occasional sigh that echoes from the kitchen followed by the drumming of fingers against the counters below only increases David’s discomfort. He’s impatient--well, more like scared. David didn’t blame him, even his own heart was thumping so loudly in his chest that he could feel it rushing through his ears, matched only in volume by the heaving breathing as he walked up the stairs. It was loud, overpowering the sounds of the creaking hardwood floors under his feet--he feels like a giant in his own house, that every step was something cataclysmic. The crashing sound of each step on hardwood that sounded like cymbals during a rainstorm make him flinch as if it were something that would disturb his mother.

He stands in front of the large oak doors that lead to their parents' room. They were shut, the way they always were. As a child, those closed doors gave him that similar feeling of being so small and so helpless to reach for the golden knob that locked during the night to keep away the little hands that barged in. An unspoken lesson that was taught was to avoid those closed doors, they were the separation between child and adult that refused to be disturbed unless it was alright. David had spent a lot of time, clutching a worn stuffed animal in his hands and pacing outside that very door, trying to decide if that nightmare or that paranoia that would burst during the night was enough to risk the wrath of his mother or father. Grace was ever forgiving though, she often insisted them to come and fetch her, that she would be around to help even if their father was crankier at the idea of being woken up. She taught them a separate knock, a few rhythmic raps that would catch her attention, and maybe even become another thing their father ignored. He does it now, hoping that one of these attempted knocks would do something, anything to stir their mother from an unknown state that was so… unnatural to see from a regularly boisterous woman.

The door creaks open, spilling the light from the hallway into the carpeted master bedroom, there’s no movement from the bed, just the figure lumped under the heavy blankets that only shows life by the rise and fall of their chest. David’s voice caught in his throat, in that moment the strength he had to protect his little brother from facing reality was lost as his stomach ran cold. His hands tremble on the knob, and the lack of acknowledgment from his mother only further seals the suspicion in his heart. 

Without another glance toward the flowered quilt, he closes the door and takes a moment to try and steady his breath. There was no reason to come downstairs and make it worse for his little brother by actively displaying fear, though the dinner in his stomach was threatening to reappear as he thought further and further into the situation at hand. 

He texts Gale that everything is okay and that he’s going to go lay down for a bit, which Gale sympathizes with by allowing that space. David’s room, significantly emptier from the move, now remains with only the most childish of his possessions, things drawn out from the closet that now have a chance to occupy where the newer, more mature, possessions once resided. Stuffed animals with beaten fur and scratched up glassy eyes lined the bed and the empty shelves were suddenly refilled with the plastic golden trophies from various sports teams he played in until he moved to other things. It felt like it belonged to someone else, though everything wore his name in the childish handwriting that covered the available surfaces in waxy green crayon.

Over the few days, he had already been home, stuck in a perpetual state of hopelessness with the abrupt dismissal of the semester, encouraging students to abandon their campus and in-person classes until they could think of some kind of solution that made the thousands of dollars in investments worth something. His suite mates, who were active in the little group chat they had created within the first few days of roommate assignments had fallen silent, as did many of the conversations he carried out with people. Conversations were short, plagued with anxiety and fears that resulted in the other party being too depressed to continue. Speaking of anything of normalcy felt wrong, even the occasional trending messages and news articles were entirely devoid of hope, though he wanted to stay informed he lacked the will to continue to see it. He would sooner put a bullet through his head then see the drawn-out depression in Times New Roman font. 

To fill the silence he spent hours going through the movies they had watched as kids, using them as background noise or falling in love with the plots again while he laid aimlessly on the bed, staring at the white ceiling. Other times he and Gale would attempt to replay the board games that had corners so worn that the layers of the cardboard fanned out unappealing. More often than not they ended up sitting in silence, saying nothing for hours but desperately clinging to the company.

Even now, in the silence of his room, he felt like being alone for too long would make his mind wander further into the situation that was their mother. Calling it a situation was the only way he could find to keep himself from spiraling. Any further acceptance almost felt like defeat, and trying to accept that the world was so violently changing in news broadcasts that didn’t hesitate to show the crystalline patients and victims who had fallen in poses that encased and froze them in that very moment like ornaments. It made every part of his body ache, mistaking the twinkling of light in that house from various prisms that decorated the house as an enemy. Gale had taken to hiding a few of them around the house, just looking for any way to avoid making the mistake as they grew weary of their surroundings. He had always wanted to watch out for his little brother, even through the years where they barely spoke, the age difference leaving them frustrated with every interaction until it was time for David to finally leave the house. 

David wonders if that’s why he feels so protective of Sera now, or anyone at this point. Jenna, even Roland to some extent, that feeling of owed protection. Sometimes he made the decision to protect them all on his own, never accounting for their feelings on whether or not they had wanted it. Making the decisions rash or painful that end occasionally with blood-spattered back in his face.

They leave the meeting feeling… different. It’s not a complicated run, at its core it’s simple. Going to one location to retrieve the needed item and playing search party for the original search party. The one roadblock that stood in the way was what they were going to do with Sera. 

“She can stay here, with the Lokapala,” Roland said, smoothing his hands out over the faded and dirtied map.

“Like insurance?” Jenna snorts, jokingly.

“Exactly like insurance,” Roland responds, not joking. “Just in case you had plans to bail with the battery.”

“We wouldn’t do that, you know that.” David interjects, but Roland shakes his head. 

“We do not know that,” Lupa says, shaking his head alongside Roland. “While Roland might have known your character once before, the rest of us do not.”  
“We’ll let her stay, only for her safety. She can stay with Lupa since he’s so insistent that our characters may be at fault.”

“Fine,” Lupa says, his voice calm. “Fred will enjoy the company.”

With Sera accounted for, the rest of the meeting ran easily, discussions on routes and different intentions, and a pick of the cars best suited for the intended battery was chosen.

Outside the building, David can see Sera and Fred still lingering around the old storefront. Unlike before when they were gallivanting around, screaming and laughing, they had both settled down to something quieter, which was peering at an old magazine, flipping through the pulpy pages. 

“We should find something cooler for Sera to wear, that jacket is suspicious.” Jenna says softly, crossing her arms and tilting her head to the side. 

“I wouldn’t say suspicious,” David says softly, turning to her. “But it is unfair, I’m sure she’s sweltering under those layers.”

“If we tried a bandage that would be too ironic, wouldn’t it.” 

“That’s not funny.” David muses, “But no, it might raise too much attention, at least here it would.”

They turn their attention back to Sera, still sitting on the stairs, occasionally breaking from a serious expression to laugh carefree something so right for a kid to be doing now--just enjoying the youth that will fundamentally be the building blocks of who you are. That bite must have mutilated the trajectory of her life for years to come. He knew what it did to people, those who he had loved or will continue to love in passing memories and thoughts--those who did not live through the initial infection or those who screamed for help while he sat away at a distance afraid for his own life. Sera would be the little girl who had lived too many years of trauma in one moment that now bore itself in an ugly crystallized scar.

“I’m ready!” Sera chirps from the bedroom of the house. David hears the rustling of her backpack and the zip of her coat. She exits the room with a smile on her face, suited up to leave.  
“Ready for what?” Jenna asks, flicking through a rotting magazine on the coffee table. David had been reading over her shoulder occasionally, trying to make out some of the words that had smudged together over years of rain. 

“To go.” Sera says, tilting her head to the side, “Aren’t we leaving tomorrow?” 

David glances at Jenna, who stiffens, “Sera, David and I are leaving tomorrow, you are not.”

Sera’s smile fades from her face, her face blanking for a moment before crumbling into an expression he didn’t know she was capable of making.

“Why!?” Her voice shrill, wavering as it rises as well as the red on her face.

David can’t decipher if it was anger, or sadness that was the cause of the rising tension of the room, but even Jenna had paused before continuing, blinking a few times before dropping her voice down to her “inside” voice.

“Sera, this is not a mission that children should go on. You will wait here, with Fred and the others. We’ve already made arrangements for you.” 

Sera shakes her head furiously, crushing the straps of her backpack in her fists. “I have to come with you guys! We do everything together!” She insists. Looking away from Jenna, she turns to David, who had always been far more receptive to her pleas. He finds himself looking away, unable to hold eye contact with her.

Jenna looks to David, and motions with her hand that it was his turn to attempt to soothe her, to find some way to reason with her. The determination in Sera’s eyes, that overwhelming feeling that she must come with them is something that David couldn’t imagine. He had seen her struggle to keep up, struggle to process the things that they were already so numbed to that it was something that had become the new normal. 

Sera would be underfoot, and though her desire to help and do her best to assist them is something that was one of the faults in her, there wasn’t always time to convey what is needed, most of it was an unspoken language that was fed and developed under years of constraint and fatal interactions. She just hadn’t developed that sense yet, and though David agreed that experience was the best mentor, this was one of the times he would rather not see its harsh teaching methods. 

“Sera, this isn’t the kind of mission that Jenna and I would take. It’s dangerous for the two of us to tag along with Roland, especially in a situation where we’re unfamiliar with the terrain.”

“But I have to go with you!” 

David lacks the words to say to her at that moment, sitting in the silence that grows more and more uncomfortable as the three of them stay silent. 

“I don’t want to be separated.” Sera whispers, finally, her voice wavering it. He didn’t even know if it was intended to be so silent, or if it was something that just happened so she wouldn’t break down in tears. He didn’t know, and either way, he was still uncertain. 

There was no guarantee that her past, unknown, and shared with Cuvier was anything full of strife, or if it had been relatively simple, keeping her hidden away from the eyes of anyone who would disbelieve her. Yet, there had to be some part of her that had experienced the horrors of the world, to be on the receiving end of perilous crystalline teeth. 

“Sera, it wouldn’t be a separation forever, just for a day or two max.”

“It doesn’t matter. Cuvier said I needed to stick with you, and only you!” She cries, stomping her foot for emphasis. 

Jenna groans, rolling her eyes, undoubtedly getting ready to give some lashing at the mention of Cuvier’s name. “That crazy old bitch says anything, it’s best to only look at it as surface level. You don’t get a virus named after you if you’re honest and trusting.” She scowls.

David smacks her shoulder, shaking his head disapprovingly, though she already knows. She says nothing in response, but crosses her arms and leans into the couch.

“I don’t care what you think!” Sera raises her voice above the whisper, it cracks more readily as she allows herself to begin to cry. “Don’t leave me alone here, what if you don’t come back, then what will I do? No one else knows! What will I do if you don’t come back?” 

Her voice buckles, interrupted by various hiccups as she cries, steady tears running down her face. “If we’re going to die, we need to die all together!” 

Jenna and David sit in silence, though they don’t look at one another, he’s positive that their feelings and expressions are the same. Such a heavy statement from that as a child, there must be some meaning that stays behind it, to say and mean such a thing. 

“You’ll have to keep up with us. No dilly-dallying, and you have to listen to everything, no complaining, barely any talking.” David says finally. Jenna responds by smacking his back, but he ignores it.

“Okay,” Sera says nodding her head ferociously and wiping at her face all the same. “I will, I’ll be as much help as I can! Just don’t leave me here.” 

With a few more deep breaths, she excuses herself to the bedroom, insistent that she needs a few moments to collect herself, obviously flushed from crying. David encourages it, reminding her that it will be for the best to get as much sleep as she can, even if it were only for a few minutes.

“Roland’s going to be aggravated with the additional baggage.” She sneers when Sera is no longer in the room. She says it as if it could change their minds, or maybe it was to fill the emptiness that had settled when Sera’s muffled sobbing had faded from behind the door. “It’s already bad enough with three of us.”

“It’s going to have to work, I’m almost positive she would have tried to follow us anyway.” He replies in hushed tones, looking at Jenna who still held her gaze steady with the wall. 

“Why are you bending to her will? We might as well just kill ourselves tonight and get it over with.”

“Why are you so insistent that we’re going to fail? You never act like this.” David returned, sitting down beside her. She did not attempt to move away or lean into him. She sits stiffly, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s different when it’s just you and I.” Jenna says, at last, her voice soft.

“It’s still us,” David insists, touching her shoulder gently trying to get her to turn and face him, “Remember, you were the one who wanted to act like it was a merchandise run.”  
“Merchandise doesn’t need to be protected, and it doesn’t die in your hands.” 

The fear and panic of losing someone, it was common, it was something unavoidable. Even now, there is the steady fear that becoming close with someone was a trap and that there would be the chance that it could turn sour and bite him if he were to lose Jenna. It had been almost seven years, but he fears that it was the wrong thing to do because he could not bear to lose her. 

“We’re professionals.” He encourages, though his words feel empty and unconvincing to himself. Jenna just shrugs. His attempts to ease her fears, or persuade her that they were doing what was right failed, but how convincing could he be when not even he believed in what he was saying. 

With that, they return to silence, though it’s lighter than before. Sitting closer than they had in a while, they clasp hands. Jenna squeezes his hand three times, and David reciprocates--the same way they do before every mission, before every job that puts them once again in the direct sight of death, praying that so hopefully they can avoid the one thing they feared the most. Separation. 

Without a doubt, Jenna was correct, and Roland was disappointed. He looks at Sera, who stands close to David, latched onto his jacket like a lifeline--but he says nothing to deter it. Just sighs, and runs his hand through his hair and then turns away.

They had said their goodbyes to a few of the townspeople who had come to see them off. While it was mainly for Roland, who said a few things to Greg who nodded along, making side-eyes and speaking in hushed tones that made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. Jenna stuck to herself, standing away from the groups, checking her gun over and over in the sunlight, her eyes chasing the little patches of reflected light from the barrel. 

Sera was standing off to the side with Fred, who was rubbing his eyes tiredly, nodding his head occasionally to what Sera was saying. David caught bits of the conversation, mostly some solemn words, promises to come back and visit, all things that were rather a pie in the sky. It might have been one of her first real friends, someone who was her age at least. David feels guilty, almost wondering if he should have put his foot down to make her stay behind so that she would have had to have been with a friend, someone her age. But who knew what the best decision was? Sera had insisted to come with, she seemed bright-eyed at the notion, nodding her head readily to everything that Jenna instructed firmly. 

“Now the area we need to go to, we had originally sent a party out there. It’s been a few days and we’ve received no response. Fortunately enough, they were looking for the same thing you’re after.” Roland says. 

“Is it fortunate if they haven’t returned?” David asks, shaking his arm free from Sera’s grasp. Her hands were holding him so tightly it ached.

“That’s what we’re going to find out.” 

Jenna rolls her eyes, she looks as if has more to say but bites her tongue. Maybe it was something to do with Sera being around, or just being too focused on getting this over with as fast they could before it would spiral. David would take over in these instances, trying to find ways to communicate for the both of them, even having to guess and try and read the body language of everyone in the room if his partner chose to fall silent. Whether or not it was because she was repressing some sort of comment or feeling that would get them in trouble, or if she just lacked the energy to try and correct the behavior. He was noticing a lot of silence when it came to Sera, looking away or annoyed with behaviors that were exhibited that were childlike.

He understands her irritation, though he doesn’t agree with it, finding the energy to be patient and calm with Sera when the situation was dire was exhausting. There will never be the proper answer to why the world is the way it was, there was nothing that could be promised or consolable about it and that was just a harsh reality you had to live with. Though David knows there’s something more to Sera’s bite, a story she hasn’t shared or even mentioned to either of them. Not when they were walking along the highway and she was chatting about anything and everything to her jacket to even some fonder memories of Cuvier that made Jenna roll her eyes. 

“We have another storage type area further into town. Into some of the deeper parts where we’ve been making steady progress in clearing out, if we need to stop and take a break, that would be the place to do it.” Roland informs, patting his hip where the glimmering top of his flask protruded. 

Jenna shakes her head, “We’re fine, let’s just get this done with.” Roland raises an eyebrow, he looks like he has more to say, but is waiting his turn in case there was more to Jenna’s statement. 

“You should know that the area is highly packed with infected, both Asura and otherwise. The landscape might be dilapidated, but the roaming bodies inside it are not.” He warns. 

“We don’t want to lose any of the daylight we have going for us right now. We’ve probably only got a few hours before it gets dark.” David adds, not wanting to dismiss the notion of stopping for the night, especially if it allows for Sera to recover fully from the highs and lows of her emotions earlier. “How long do you suppose it’ll take to reach that bunker?” 

“Not as long as you think it will. Though like you, I would rather not waste away the day. My men are out there.” 

Sera pipes up, aware the conversation is based around her. “I’m fine, we don’t need to stop for very long.” 

“It’s fine if you need to, Sera.” David reminds her, ignoring the glances exchanged between Roland and Jenna that implied it wasn’t. They were both far too eager to get it over with, their anxious energy feeding off one another, infecting Sera and admittedly; David as well. 

“No, it’s okay. We can keep going, there’s no reason for us to stop.” She says, her voice far beyond her years for a moment, a look of determination heavy on her childish face. 

There is a fear that comes with raising anything young or innocent, that there will be a time where there is no way to avoid the looming shadow of reality. Though Sera had truly experienced something in the beginning, then those shattered pieces were scooped together in an attempt to mold her back into something as gentle as a fawn. This was the awakening that chipped away at that exterior built most likely by Cuvier. David couldn’t figure out why such a grim woman, one who often spoke with a voice entangled with dripping hatred masked only the excuse of her age. 

Hated as she was, by random civilians, the military, or even Jenna who viewed her so negatively he wondered what it would have taken for her to finally break and do the one thing that no one else had any success in doing. Even David had considered it, the few unfortunate times they had crossed paths or had to rely on one another, the instances back in the beginning where he could have let his grasp on her slip, to treat her the same as Harley in those brief moments of frustration, taking out the rage bubbling inside that he pushed down repeatedly for the sake of Sera.

It’s for her sake solely, the look of trust that she has when she looks to them to make that decision or even decide which way was the best to continue traveling, that the thought of just dropping her off somewhere, sending her alone and trying to forget her face so that there was the chance to resume what would have continued to be a normal, abnormal life with Jenna. The reason for taking her this far, there was nothing honorable he was sure, whether or not there was the chance that she truly was the cure for humanity or if it was some cruel trick or reminder that tragedy here was more common than not. He did not know. 

They walk in silence until the grass around the cracked pavement becomes higher and higher, and the chirping sounds of birds, any normal sound of humanity is replaced with an eerie silence that sends a chill down his back. This was the reminder of the world, the dead air, and the stillness of breath as you prayed it would not be your last.

“There’s more Asura around the church than there are regular infected.” Roland informs. “Usually I would take to using a bow, but ours was with the party that was sent out prior.” Roland’s voice was but a whisper as they moved, the church steeple, standing tall with crumbling brick and a metal cross that had wilted down, casting a harrowing shadow. The building was in better shape than David would have expected, especially considering the standings of the other buildings around, some looking to be level with the ground, only their bones remaining upright while others were just gashed open with crumbling brick dripping to the ground. 

“How sad,” Sera whispered, pointing toward the stained glass on the exterior of the church, most of it had been desecrated, spray paint covering some areas that had not been shattered with thrown objects. 

“Very,” Roland responds, but with all that, David wasn’t sure he had any sympathies for it. 

Most organized religions had failed around them. People clung to varieties of God looking for anything to help themselves get up in the morning and continue to push on. Some used it as a horse blinder, trying their best to ignore the state of the world, pushing themselves in a facade that crumbled usually in a large scale show of insanity. Once spiritual, or religious, something that focused on a higher power himself, David had found he hadn’t thought of a God or anything in a long time. The notion was embittered in his mouth, something that carried the heavy fragrance of a mother he tried not to remember. 

Jenna reaches for his hand, startling him from his thoughts. A ritual he remembers well, her fingers interlaced so tightly with his hand that it felt like a lifeline. There would be no words, but there weren’t any either could share that wouldn’t feel mendacious to say aloud. Something instinctual that is shared between them, the contact from someone you loved that would try and put the pounding heart in your chest at ease.

“Sera, stay very close to us, and down to the ground, okay?” David whispers to her as they fall into a line. Roland in the front while it descended from height till Sera was standing behind Jenna. She nods her head, eyes wide and trusting--he did not feel as if it were deserved. 

It begins the same way, the high pitched wails, the rising of shrill noises from the back of the throat through strained vocal cords at the brink of tearing. They bumped into everything around them, the various old headstones that remained in the old cemetery of the church. They lurched around corners, screaming at the slightest touch of anything unknown, swinging their arms blindly in fits of rage. No matter the time and experience that passed with fighting these demons, there was nothing that could prepare someone to see them, to fight them, and to come face to face with the crystals that were see-through enough to see the desiccated shell of whoever was underneath. 

Slow steps made the situation feel as if it were slowed down. Every movement had to be perfect to guarantee success, to throw the Asura in a headlock to cut open their throat to make the screaming stop was a dance that could not afford a mistake. David had seen the mistakes made, he had been the one on multiple occasions to fire the shots that left his bullets blended into the gore. 

The experience did help however, the swift movements they took, the plunging of sharp blades into the areas of exposed flesh between the pellucid stone. Their hands ran red after, wiping them off on their clothes, ignoring the streaks of blood that bear the appearance of light fingerprints, dragged down their chests as they wrestled. Reminding themselves that the blood was no longer that of kin, but of something entirely different that would not comprehend the grave reality of what it meant to kill someone. Especially those who had once shared the features that made humans so unique in comparison to the other beasts of the world.

With one section of the graveyard cleared, there was a collective breath of relief that scattered between them all. Sera had her hand over her chest, eyes shut and breathing deeply. “I held my breath the entire time!” 

“As did I.” Jenna replied, her voice just as breathless. 

“Well, you’ll need to keep breathing, there is more to them up ahead, and I can’t promise there won’t be any at the school.”

Jenna’s face twists. “The school?”

Roland nodded, then pointed toward the north, “The old high school.” Jenna groaned, and even David stifled his disappointment. Though long graduated, and long progressed past high school memories, it could bring back negative feels just at the mere mention.

“There was a truck that came by, military. I don’t know, maybe something of a rumor of our faction, but they were overrun.” Roland shares between silence as they bring down Asura. “They are the only ones currently manufacturing new car batteries, if we were to get a hold of it, we would be able to fix up one of the cars that are around the base.” 

“What did you need it for?” Jenna asked, pulling her gun from its holster as they dipped into one of the houses that stood in a neat line on the way to the school. The amount of infected was rising, more than could be handled silently, but not enough to bring their guns out. 

“It would make various trips easier, instead of having to go on foot to look around for supplies.” 

“I’m sorry we have to take it.” 

“You aren’t though,” Roland says flatly, drawing the flask from his pocket to take a swig before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “But it doesn’t matter, we’ll be even, and you’ll leave our town.”

“Deal.” Jenna hisses before David could respond. Sera looks between them awkwardly, and David understands. There was that underlying sense of animosity in that there was that violation of trust and boundaries that had been unspoken but followed for years. 

“I don’t know what the deal is, with her,” Roland begins before they leave the house, his hand lingering over the handle for the sliding glass door. “But it must be important for you to do something so bold as to come here.”

He turns back to face them, scanning for an answer. Jenna and David stand shoulder to shoulder, faces blank as Sera stands behind them. A barrier formed to protect the one of the various secrets they would easily die to protect. The silence between them, pointed, and for a moment David can’t tell what side Roland was on if his hand lingering by the door handle would be faster than Jenna’s. 

Without another word, Roland turns back to the door and opens it slowly before venturing out. Sera attempts to pull the door closed behind them, but Jenna shakes her head. Sera doesn’t try to reason with her the way they would if they were without Roland’s company, but for the first time in the day they had spent with the Lokapala, there was distrust between the two parties.


End file.
